Calamity Hoppers Reprise
by C.R.Martin
Summary: A young Woo Foo Knight's journey for greater power has led him to the most terrifying force in existence, revealing demons that he never knew existed. Has he made the right choice, or are there greater ramifications to his actions than he thought? A rewrite of the original story from 2010. Rated T for coarse language, mature themes and violence.
1. Genesis

_**Calamity Hoppers ~Reprise~**_

 **by Christopher R. Martin  
**

Chapter 1 - Genesis

The world was not always at peace. No. In fact, there was once a time when all the world knew was despair, absolute and unfettered.

It happened millennia ago, when a titanic monster set foot on this very soil. Its appearance was not like anything that the people had ever seen, its body composed of a black mist-like substance, taking form of a wolf. No one knew what its purpose was, if it even had one.

And then it struck them, like a blade to the heart.

With a howl that made heaven and hell quake, the beast made its move and waged war against the people. Cities were reduced to ruins. The blood of every man and woman, of every race, age and sex, stained its fangs and fur. Any life that had the misfortune of crossing its path was met with an unbecoming end. Each cataclysm it brought about, each life claimed, was the sorrow widening its hold upon them.

For years the monstrosity's wrath was brought to bear across the numerous stretches of the world. And its people were helpless against it. Seeing everything they held dear being wrested from their grip little by little and obliterated in such ease, they were convinced that it was the end. That even with their numbers, they were ultimately powerless to fight back.

But just as the situation looked bleak, something happened. A slender ray of light cracked through the darkness, amidst the grim and gray space. A faint, little glimmer that grew into a beam of splendor. Out of the light stepped forth two silhouettes. A miracle? A blessing from God or some other divine presence? Again, the people were uncertain of what to make of it. What they were certain of was that the last thing they wanted was for one more foreign entity to enter the fray, let alone two.

The people watched in wonder as well as fear. What were these two beings going to do to them? Did they come to save them? Or were they here to contribute to the chaos that the monster had already wrought?

"Do not be afraid," one of them spoke, the benevolence in its female voice putting at rest the fear that festered in the hearts of the mortals. "We have come as emissaries of salvation."

"Let this wretched creature's fury sway you not from the power that lies dormant within your hearts," said the other being. "The power to triumph over your tribulations."

The two figures stepped forth to reveal their true selves as knights clad in suits of armor gleaming underneath the light. The female's armor was the same blue as the sky, and the male knight's was red as a rose.

In unison they spoke to the people, their words as bright as the light that heralded their arrival. Their voices thundered to the heavens, stretching far and wide so that the message may be heard.

"But to beckon it, you must come together as one world. One people."

"It may have broken your homes and brought ruin everywhere—" said the knight in blue.

"…but as fearsome as it is, this beast can neither take nor break this power lying inside you and the bond you share," completed the red knight.

The people, captivated by these voices, took heed intently of these words and embedded them into their minds. Into their hearts. Many were moved, mustering ounces of courage that trumped their doubts. Yet there were still those whose misgivings overcame them in spite of their acknowledgement.

"Now, step forward," uttered the two knights together. "Those of you who are willing, take the destiny of your world into your hands. The right to live is for each and every one of you. Stand and face this monster, and reclaim what is yours. Join us, and together, we will fell this Infernal Beast!"

As that last proclamation roared in the skies above, they raised their hands upwards, defiant of their opposition. Her gauntlets were bathed in an aura of light, while his held a sword wide as his shoulders and half as tall as his entire frame.

The years to come were spent on preparations, on equipping the common man, woman and child accordingly for war.

The battle fought by the people of the world was tremendous. Much blood was spilt. Tears were shed over the loss of parents, siblings, comrades and lovers. The tide would turn one direction, then the other and repeat in one calamitous cycle.

Finally. After much suffering, everything had come to an end. The lupine monster fell to the ground before the feet of the many valiant souls, the remains of its dissolved carcass scattering, vanishing from the naked eye. The world was for its people to reclaim, but at so steep a price. A price well paid, they all agreed.

From that day forth, the great war would be known as "The Black Campaign", and the terrible wolf creature would be dubbed "The Infernal Beast" or "It".

The people were indebted to the two ethereal knights. Were it not for them, had their intervention not happened, the strength of the people would not have been discovered, and their end would have been certain.

In a display of gratitude, a monument was crafted in the likeness of the two knights, with an inscription on its base saying: "Those who are set apart from this world, those who aided its people in reclaiming it."

With their duties accomplished and knowing that their existence would be too good to last, the knights chose to pass their knowledge down. The knight in blue—the Mediator—taught the ways of the mystic, the spiritual arts. The knight in red—the Governor—taught the ways of the warrior, armed and unarmed combat.

And thus, the art of Woo Foo was born.

And these teachings would in turn be passed down from one generation to the next, in memory of the Mediator and Governor. They would transcend every possible boundary and carry on…

…all the way to the present day.


	2. Underneath the Sun

**_Calamity Hoppers ~Reprise~_**

 **by Christopher R. Martin  
**

Chapter 2 – Underneath the Sun

I let out a small sigh as I lie on the grass with my head rested on top of my hands. My eyes are trained intently on the sky, where the sun showers its brilliance on the world below. The absence of clouds up there means that I can bask in this light more, a source of comfort when everything else seems to fall short.

The gentle breeze of the wind caresses me from top to bottom. My already still body is lulled and brought closer to slumber. Any intent I have to do anything is flushed out. Well, if I ever had _any_ intent at all, anyway.

Weekday afternoons are set aside for training, a top priority for a Woo Foo Knight such as myself. I was planning on getting some of my usual exercises done—or at least I convinced myself that I was—but given my previous track record, my laziness has gotten the better of me once again. The punching bag and straw-made dummies on one side of the dojo's front yard have not been touched. The bars I am supposed to use for pull-ups are equally untouched, equally still. And on top of all of this, my bamboo sword, my most valued tool, lies idly on the ground, a fingertip's length away from me.

Casting once-overs on these pieces of equipment, I shut my eyes and deliberate on this. If I don't get _some_ practice done, I can expect to face quite the repercussions. Not from one person, but two of them.

"Jeez, what a drag," I say underneath my breath following a slight groan, picking myself up after slapping the soil I'm lying on. I then pick my bamboo sword up by its hilt, tapping the palm of my rabbit paw twice with its flat. "Here's hoping the old man doesn't _completely_ bite my head off."

After a long, deep breath and a few stretches, I start off by practicing my swordplay, swinging my weapon in controlled, fluid motions. Parry, thrust, horizontal and vertical slices, somersaults, my feet shuffling about. Every move is executed with finesse, precision, accumulated in the many battles I've faced. My quickened movements slice the air around me, the sound of my blade as it rushes from left to right, up and down and back again, an ecstasy that I revel in. It pours in with each subsequent slash, igniting my senses as if I were actually in the heat of battle.

Oh, how I love the rush of it. The acceleration of my heart as I land one successful attack after another whilst parrying that of my enemies' with the grace of a swan and the instinct of a lion. The adrenaline pumping into my system when the situation seems bleak. The sweet taste of victory as the last of my adversaries either falls before my feet or concedes. And the battlefield itself. How I love every bit of it all, all the same.

Fifteen minutes elapse, and I wrap things up with the coup de grâce: a downward, diagonal cut with both hands, strong enough to slice one arm off of the straw dummy. I brandish my bamboo sword and withdraw it, feet together, pleased at what I can do.

Up above, the sun begins its descent, indicated by the skies now having turned orange. It is then that I realize I've wasted too much of my time relaxing. But given the results of my training, I suppose it'll suffice. I search the front yard to see what I can do, eyes jumping from article to article, marking off a checklist in my head. Soon they land on the bars on the other side.

"Ten, perhaps?" I ask myself, leaning my chin on my fist. "Yeah, that'll do."

I then approach one of the bars—the middle one, the tallest amongst them. Cracking my knuckles and neck eagerly, I grab hold of it and begin. Each pull is accompanied by my counting.

"One…"

"Two."

"Three."

My pull-ups aren't meant to be second-to-none, but they're robust nonetheless.

"Four."

"Five."

I'm able to level my chin with the bar.

"Six."

"Seven."

More importantly, this exercise, like everything else, builds me up.

"Eight."

"Nine."

Everything is going along smoothly.

Until…

"Yang!" a high-spirited, feminine voice calls out, the utterance of my name entering my ear.

This isn't good. I'm just about to come down from my tenth repetition. My right hand fumbles upon hearing her, and I dangle from my left. I reach for the bar to regain my position, my finger just a millimeter away. Almost there…

"Yang!" the voice repeats, and I force myself to ignore it. "Dinner time! Come inside!"

One by one, the fingers on my left paw start to slip. As the last one releases the bar, I feel the full force of the grassy ground whacking me behind the back. Nothing is broken, thankfully, since I can at least arch my back and roll on my side, but the pain is immense and pervades my body so much that any other form of movement is currently out of the question.

When I am hurting a little less, I manage to rise on my feet rather slowly, with my hand around the hilt of my sword, and turn to the dojo, which is but a blur right now.

"Are you deaf or something? Hurry up!" the voice utters once more, now with its usual demanding tone. I swear if I have to hear it again, I am going to throw this sword at someone.

It would seem that she does not notice my predicament at all. That, or she _does_ notice but does not care in the slightest. I'm more inclined to believe the latter.

Sighing, I limp my way back to the dojo, holding the small of my back all the way. My posture is clumsy, pairing well with my snail-paced gait. I've had worse injuries than this, and I usually shrug them all off. In time…

Past the front doors, I proceed to the kitchen. There, my twin sister Yin busies herself with preparing the dining table, laying out plates, utensils and glasses on the placemats, humming as she does so. She and I are almost identical in appearance except for a few distinctions. Whereas my fur is blue, hers is pink, and her eyelashes protrude more than mine. Unlike her, I don't have a bow adorning my head all the time.

Setting down the third and last set of tableware down on the…well, table, Yin pivots where she stands, her blue eyes meeting with my violet ones. They then scan my whole frame – my disheveled fur, my crooked ears and a tiny cut that has opened on the edge of my lower lip. Her initial expression at the sight of me is one of shock.

"What the heck happened to you?" asks my twin, her hand over her mouth matching her concern. And then comes a snicker. "You look awful." There's the giggling. "Like someone chewed you and spat you out." And now it's full-blown guffawing. Great, just great.

I look on as she slinks to her knees from her laughter, impassive towards her jeering. Eyes squinted, unamused. I feign my own laughing and tell her, "Hilarious. So funny I forgot to laugh," all while preserving my stony countenance.

Yin is still laughing, struggling to catch her breath. I then drop the pretenses, brushing off blades of grass from my arms, and add, "You do realize that this is your fault, Yin."

She inhales as much air as she can, wipes a tear of hysteria from the corner of her eye and stands up. She still wears that smug smile, the kind cracked by those who take pride in their achievements. Too much pride, in my sister's case.

"You've got no one else to blame for your laziness but yourself, bro," says Yin with a shake of her head. She takes to a pot on the stove, where a faint aroma flutters about and disseminates all over the place. "Should've done as you were told immediately like I did." That statement is said in sing-song, and it provokes the urge in me to break something. Anything. The dining table, the chairs around it, the cupboard, whatever I may lay my eyes on.

But I restrain myself from doing just that. Instead, I fold my arms in a snap and a huff, feeling wounded. A thought crops up in my mind. A pernicious musing, its purpose to cause ruin to whoever conceives it.

Clenching my hand into a fist, I furrow my face into a scowl. This one thought dictates my next move. What I am about to say.

"Well at least I'm not the obnoxious, know-it-all girl in this family!" I exclaim, the whole place falling silent. Funny thing is that's only half of the truth. I could have added that she's too smug for her own good, but that would be overkill. Not only that, but I don't want to risk giving her any ammo to use against me.

If my sister ever had any buttons that shouldn't be pushed, I know that I've definitely just pushed one of them. I know it because she is motionless along with the dojo, wringing the handle of her ladle. She breaks from her stupor, screaming at the top of her lungs, and points a finger at me. And here comes another one of her long-winded rants on how I'm an immature, sexist punk or something along those lines.

"You know something, Yang?" shouts Yin, stamping her feet straight for me. She pokes my chest with her paw. "There are times where I am honest-to-God ashamed to be your sister. Sometimes, I'm disgusted to know that I share the same DNA as you! You probably don't know it, so I'm spitting it directly at your face!"

I may not have gotten that rant that I was suspecting, to my surprise, but what she had just said now is equally scathing, if not more.

Furious, I slap her hand off of my person like a fly, and hold my ground.

"Well, that makes two of us," I say, leaning my head in. And my sister and I hold our gazes on each other, our respective scowls burning into the other's mind.

I keep telling myself that Yin and I, like any brother and sister out there, only say these things out of anger. And our state of mind is temporarily thrown out the window. That neither of us really mean these nasty, unpleasant things we say to each other.

It's what siblings do, after all. Tease, bicker, play harmless jokes and pranks on each other, and just get on each other's nerves in general.

However, this doesn't seem likely now. We were just lying to each other then, right? And this will all come to pass, and the slate will be wiped clean.

Right?

Our master and father Yo, an elderly panda pushing one hundred and thirty-odd years, enters the kitchen-slash-dining-room, a mug in his hand. A blessing in disguise; him being here saves me the trouble of deducing what the true feelings behind my words are. I don't know what they were, and I don't want to know.

He sees us in yet another one of our squabbles. Having seen so much of us arguing, though, the surprise of it is now lost on him. So he simply rolls his eyes and sighs.

"Do you two ever do anything else but grope at each other's throats all day?" asks our father, taking a sip of his coffee. Irritated. He's clearly trying to act the parent part, with that stern gaze on his face.

I tear my eyes away from Yin's to face the panda. She and I bow to him, humbled by his presence.

"Sorry, Master Yo," I say. I then correct myself with a, "I mean, Dad."

Seven months after our victory over the terrible griffon Eradicus, after discovering our parentage, and I still can't refer to him as 'Dad' or 'Father'. Not without feeling an odd pang in my tongue. And as it appears, neither can my sister.

He, however, is growing more accustomed to this knowledge, displaying his affection like any father would. Rubbing our heads to tell us job-well-done during our training exercises, kissing us on the forehead as we're about sleep for the night, even offering to bathe us. I restrain a shudder at that last image. He does all this and more while still being the eccentric and wise Woo Foo Master we know him as.

"That 'sorry' had better mean something," he says, saunter deeper into the kitchen. Yin and I part to the side as he passes right between us. "Now I might just only be getting the hang of this whole parenting business, but I do know that that's no way for siblings to behave. Are you kids ever going to clean up your act?"

Acknowledging his words, both of us twins bow again, this time only with our heads. The silence does the talking on our behalf.

Our master redirects his attention to the dining table, where he claims a seat for himself. I join him over at the table while Yin goes back to the stove. He sniffs three times, sighing euphorically from the smell coming out of the pot. I rest a cheek on my fist and observe the dining area to pass the time, noticing that my sister has set up three bowls instead of plates.

"Dinner ready yet? I'm starving," Master Yo remarks.

"In a sec, Dad," says Yin with a small wince.

A few more fleeting minutes, and she is done with her pot. She turns the stove off, dips her ladle in and out of her concoction and pours it into one big bowl.

"So what are we having tonight?" I ask dryly, now playing with my fingers by drumming them on the table.

Whatever Yin just made, it could be anything. I have a hunch as to what it might be, but I ignore it and say that it could be anything, over and over again.

"It's my personal special," says Yin proudly. She lifts the bowl with her magic and crosses over to the empty chair opposite of mine.

Burying my head beneath clasped paws, I close my eyes and wince. That way, no one hears me as I speak to myself. "Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it, don't say it…"

A clank sounds from the table. Inside the bowl Yin had brought over is a brew consisting of meat chunks along with a blend of beans, peppers, garlic, onions and other vegetables, soaked in a reddish liquid.

My sister, having taken her seat, gestures at her creation with pride. As her hands are outstretched, she says with glee, "My original recipe for chili con carne. Bon appétit, everyone!"

My father and I air our respective reactions, with him going first.

"Ooh, that looks nice."

"Yay…" I say, half-heartedly, unenthusiastic. What creature besides my master could find this edible?

Yin leans her head to one side, a dull stare on her. "Seriously, Yang?" she says, knowing me well enough. She _is_ my sister, after all.

She fills her bowl to the brim with her cooking, pours it all into her bowl and helps herself. I take my time in getting my serve, trying hard not to retch – the immediate thought that springs when I look at her 'chili'. And just as hesitantly, I feed myself spoonfuls of the stuff, soon adapting to the taste. It's not bad, and I've tasted worse than this, but it's not some culinary masterpiece, either. Nothing to be proud nor ashamed of.

"Always outdoing yourself, Yin. Well done," says Master Yo, shoveling the chili into his mouth rapidly.

"Glad to see _someone's_ appreciative of what I do," Yin adds, squinting at me.

All I give her is a chuckle as I maintain my slow-paced eating. She is not—I repeat, _not_ —getting a single complement out of me.

Dinner time wears on slowly. None of us pay mind to it until after a brief look at the clock on the wall near the kitchen. A quarter to six. We are quiet. We keep to ourselves. We focus on our own food. On our respective thoughts, not sharing them at all.

The quiet ends after Dad sets his tableware to the side and rests his head on his hands with his elbows on the table. He eyes us intently. First Yin as she herself is finishing up with her last serving, and then me as I only make it halfway in my first and only bowl. His gaze towards her is short, a smile on his face as a cherry on top, but his eyes stay on me. They burrow in me. Into my brain.

"So how was training today?" he begins, eyes shifting to the flower vase in the middle.

"Oh, it was great. Finally got the hang of my Foo-portation," says Yin, her grin spanning ear to ear. "Here, check it out." She vanishes from her seat in a burst of light and reappears in the kitchen, directly in front of the pot she used a while ago. She repeats the spell a few more times, materializing in the living room and out the backyard before reclaiming her chair.

My father nods to show his approval. He pats her head. He turns to me, his smile disappearing completely.

"What about you, Yang?" he asks, folding his arms. "You certainly got _your_ training for today done, given how unkempt you look. How did it go?"

I nod and follow it up with a calmly spoken, "It went well, Master Yo."

"I see, I see. So tell me."

"Tell you what exactly?"

"Don't get smart with me, young man." Really? 'Young man'? Is he really playing that card with me? "What exercises did you do? Tell me, otherwise I'll say that you're lying."

"Fifteen minutes of sword practice and nine chin-up reps," I tell him, swirling my chili with my spoon out of disinterest.

"That's it?" says Yin. What a smug little punk, I swear she takes every opportunity she can to have a go at me.

"Was I talking to you?" I return bitterly.

Dad, obviously not pleased, exhales and lowers his head. Already, I'm hating where this conversation is going.

"I asked you to do thirty minutes of sword practice, ten chin-up reps and fifteen minutes of Magic practice," he starts, his mounting expectations of me pinning me to the floor. He's gotten stricter now that Yin and I are Grade Two Woo Foo Knights. "I made myself perfectly clear to you, Yang."

"I kept telling him. I swear to God, I told him over and over," says Yin, raising her hands up in a shrug – her pride taking shape. "But did he listen? Of course not."

"Shut up." So close. I am so. Close. To snapping.

"How many times do we have to go through this same damn conversation?" My father's voice sounds stricter now, and he slouches slightly on his chair and folds his arms. He strains his face and sits upright. "Just because we've conquered one of our most fearsome enemies does not mean the end of our duties as Woo Foo Knights. You'll never know when the world is going to need us again, and I am not going to have you push your share of the burden on your sister's shoulders. When are you going to get it, Yang?"

Yin's and Dad's eyes dig into my brain, and I have no choice but to take it in. A bitter pill for me to swallow, and an unneeded— _unwanted_ —one at that. Dad stares at his empty bowl while Yin keeps her eyes on me.

And that's the last straw. That's the problem right there. I understand our responsibilities. What being a Woo Foo Knight entails. It is more than a means to sate my desire for battle. More than a vice to revel in. I know this from everything I've been through. From my wounds to my battles to the steep costs that I sometimes had to make; once in a while, just a mere glance at my sister's eyes is reminder enough.

So I certainly don't need to be told of what I must do at my expense. I don't need this crap from anyone, especially my own family. Yes, I'm the wisecracker. The goofball. The slacker. All smiles, laughs and off-hand remarks. But there's more to me than just this. My dad has to know, since he's known me for a long time now and he's…well, my dad. And my sister has to as well because she has been with me my entire life, since when we first entered this world.

But no. That is not what I get. And no, these aren't repercussions I'm facing. These are annoyances.

I want to point out my master's own laziness…only to realize that he's not as lazy anymore. And I want to turn my sister's goody two shoes tendencies against her…but relent there, as well, in fear that she may do the same to me.

I have nothing. No retort, no response. I am cornered. But, as a saying I once heard goes, a cornered mouse can bite back.

My hand balls into a trembling fist underneath the table. And then I slap my palms on the table so hard that everything on it jumps two inches high. Setting my placemat and its contents to the side, I stand from my chair and make my way to the stairs.

"Where are you going?" demands my father.

I do not look at them, only on the path ahead. "Lost my appetite," I say in a low tone, drained from the 'conversation' just now. "I'm out of here."

I stamp my feet violently as the staircase comes to view. Upstairs, I head to our room, leaping onto my bed while bouncing from my sister's.

For a while, I stay unmoving on my bed. The time now is seven in the evening, as said on the clock on my nightstand. Dusk has made its entry outside of my window, the moon and stars above watching us as though we are ants. This day just can't seem to end.

As I lie on my bed, my thoughts start to stir. They are unruly, pounding my head and screaming inside. I don't bother shutting them out. There's no point.

"Why?" I whisper, eyes flittering shut. "Why does everyone always have to be on my goddamned case?"

My tightly-clenched fists tremble on the fabric under me. I need something. An outlet for this frustration.

"I hate it." That outlet dawns in my head. I've said it before, and I'll sure as hell say it again.

"I hate it… I hate it. I hate! I HATE IT!"

The louder my voice grows, the more satisfied I become. Not quite like punching a hole through a dummy, but it'll do. It's a much-needed relief, indeed.

Rolling to my left, I gaze at the window, at the moon espying me. Eventually, my eyes close slowly for one last time today, and I drift off.

Maybe, for the time being, I can rest…


	3. Gray

_**Calamity Hoppers ~Reprise~**_

 **by Christopher R. Martin  
**

Chapter 3 – Gray

* * *

 _Where the hell am I? Why am I here? Whatever this place is, I don't like it. I have to get out of here._

 _But first thing's first. I breathe in and out to calm myself. I need to discern my surroundings, gain my bearings, before I can do so. Set apart what I know from what I don't know. The place is completely coated in gray, accentuated by the bitter cold that clings to my skin and the dense mist that impairs my vision. Before me is a body of water—a lake, maybe?—barely visible through this mist. It stretches far and wide, but where it ends is anyone's guess._

 _After that, I inspect my person. Around my right hand is my bamboo sword. It is one of my only three companions, the other two being my shadow and the sound of my own voice._

 _And speaking of which…_

" _Hello?!" I holler through my cupped hands, the empty space around me magnifying my voice. But no response._

 _My mind searches through a list of names of friends and family alike – the next logical step, I believe. It's worth a try, though unlikely._

" _Yin? Master Yo?"—maybe I should have gone with 'Dad' or 'Father' instead?—"Lina? Roger? Coop? Dave?" I give it a few seconds until my echo vanishes. Rallying up my lungs, I cup my hands around my mouth tighter and add, "Anybody?!"_

Anybody? Someone? Anyone? Surely, I can't be the only one here.

 _Ten seconds more, and I start running, my path dictated by my feet alone. North or south, east or west, up or down, left or right, none of this seems to matter. Really, they don't._

 _It catches up to me that all this running won't change anything. I am by myself. A rabbit child hopelessly lost, misguided, and at the worst possible moment: fresh from a verbal beatdown that wasn't deserved._

 _Convinced of this brutal reality, I hunch into a ball on the floor and bury my face in my arms. I hold on to the hope that this soulless realm will go away. As my chest turns sore, any resistance I've built wane._ A Woo Foo Knight does not cry. A Woo Foo Knight does. Not. Cry. _But I want to. Just one single tear._

 _My ears catch a glittering noise from the distance. A shaft of light breaks through the monotonous gray, and from it a new presence emerges. A shadow. No, not a shadow. It is the silhouette of what I think is some kind of dog or canine, its erect ears and flailing tail gaining my curiosity._

 _Instinctively I ready my sword and point it at this figure. Besides Lina, I don't know if there are any other canines that are in my circle of friends._

" _Who are you?" I demand. But 'What are you?' might have been a better question, because this person is nothing like I've faced. It's almost otherworldly._

" _Master Yo…" says the shade. Is he Woo Foo, too?_

" _How do you know my teacher's name?" My stance and grip on my sword stiffen in certainty. Perhaps he is an acquaintance of the panda._

 _I can't be sure of it because he doesn't answer. Instead he continues, speaking to himself. He isn't speaking in a foreign language or anything, but the softness of his tone prevents me from making sense of his words._

 _Surely he has a reason for being here, and it has something to do with me if he's_ here _with_ _me._

" _I'm talking to you. Don't pretend you can't notice me, pal," I announce, anger bubbling. My voice topples his, but he keeps to himself some more._

 _The instant he stops, he tilts his head upwards, eyes aligned with the lake._

" _Do you seek strength, little one?" asks the silhouette._

 _His question paralyzes me, but in seconds I tear from it and answer with, "Yes. Yes, I do."_

 _I wish to be stronger, better, than I am in my current state. If I can do so, then everything and everyone I hold dear will be safe under my protection. My battles will be easier. And I won't have to put up with people talking me down anymore._

 _Nodding his head, he points a finger my way. He points it at a specific spot: at my right hand and the bamboo sword in its grasp._

" _And yet your display of bravado betrays the doubt that clouds you." His patronizing is pissing me off. As if letting my family take potshots wasn't enough._

" _What the hell does this have to do with you?" I glower at him, even though he can't see me._

 _A glow emanates from my right side. I turn to its direction and see my bamboo sword bathed in light. The weight in my right hand increases in mere seconds. The light dissipates. In place of old reliable is a new kind of weapon. A_ greater _kind of weapon. The enormous steel curves off in a wide arc just before the tip, and the hilt is wrapped in one long strip of cloth to soak up any moisture built up by the wielder. Both sides are sharp, the edges trimmed and without a single dull spot to be seen._

 _This sword brings forth a sacred feeling. Its design is in itself a token of the mastery of its craftsmanship._ This _is an actual treasure._ This _is a weapon. I recognize it from somewhere, but it's just not coming into me. It hasn't arrived yet._

 _Surprise surges in my veins as I hold this weapon now and the visage of its original wielder surfaces in my mind. This gargantuan blade felled the Infernal Beast long ago and ended its tyranny upon the world. I've read about this weapon before—the Blade of the Governor—as part of an examination to become a Grade Two Woo Foo Knight. But I never thought that it would find itself here, in my possession._

 _The silhouette lowers its arm, gaze still trained on the lake. As his arm falls to the side, the sword returns to its original state._

" _Because I have been in your position, too. Your struggle was once mine a long time ago," he says, his boast enforced by his pride. "But take heed, young Woo Foo. For this power to be yours, you must cast aside your misgivings. If you are indeed true to your word, then you will search for me, and I will provide you with what you yearn for."_

 _With these words spoken loud and clear, the shadow begins to disappear. Piercing through this gray realm, through the mist and over the lake, is another ray of light._

" _Hold on!" I say, running towards him with an outstretched arm. "How will I know if you're telling the truth?"_

 _He says nothing. Following the brief pause, he turns his head towards me, his features indiscernible, and says, "I will make sure of it." He's becoming see-through, now. At this rate, I won't get a chance to ask him the rest of the questions I have for him._

 _So I run. I thrust out my hand. The light ahead of me brightens. I'm losing him. I'm very close._

" _WAIT!" I scream, lungs on fire._

Violently, my body thrashes about on my bed. Stifled moans sound from my mouth as I scrunch my face into wrinkles.

"Wait! Wait!" I say, my lips moving of their own accord. At one point I even throw my hand out and up in the air. I bet it's something important if I'm reaching out to it with both eyes closed.

One—two—three breaths. I calm down, my arm flopping on the bed in a limp. Someone is nudging my right shoulder.

"Yang? Yang! Yang, come on. Pick your lazy butt up, man," says someone – a girl.

My eyelids part, and I lift my upper body off of my pillow. Yin had been awake this entire time, prodding me out of my not-so-peaceful sleep. Her features are hardened into a grimace.

"Oh, Yin. It's just you," I comment, rubbing my face to clean it up somewhat. "Now _that_ was weird. What time is it now?"

"Eight-thirty. You've been tossing and turning in your sleep for the last fifteen minutes." She bites her lip as she stifles her laughter and covers her mouth slightly.

"And you're just waking me up now?" I jump off of bed, pick up my discarded gi from the floor and sling it across my shoulder.

"I've been trying to wake you up for that long." My sister's lips widen into a grin.

"You're enjoying every second of this, aren't you?" I say with a glare.

"You put on quite a show there, bro," says Yin. Unable to contain it any longer, she guffaws herself silly. She laughs at my misery for a good twenty seconds before stopping to breathe. "Now hurry up and get your lazy butt out of bed. We've got a lot of work to do today."

She exits the room, letting out a few last chortles and wiping tears of hysteria from her eyes. What a pain in the ass she can be. Actually, scratch that. She's a pain in the ass, period.

I pay her no mind and simply go inside of our bathroom. There I begin my morning ritual, showering for a minute or two and brushing my teeth. All at once. Everything is done hastily yet thoroughly enough that I don't miss a spot.

With these tasks finished, I dress myself in my gi, grab my sword from underneath my bed and dash out of my room and straight for the backyard, where my sister stands attentively on the stairs overlooking our group of friends, all of whom are the same age as us. They consist of a female dog with aqua fur wearing a purple dress, a bright yellow chicken in a dress shirt, overalls and a pair of wide-rimmed, thickly-framed glasses a tree stump with limbs—I find him the most uninteresting of our lot—and an adolescent ogre—or a 'skelewog'—in street clothes, his horns protruding out of his backwards baseball cap.

Cracking my knuckles, I take my position on the same step that Yin is on and inspect our group along with her. Now that she and I are Grade Two Woo Foo, it's our duty to guide other knights that are lower in rank than us. To teach them the Might and Magic disciplines of our martial art, as well as learn something new ourselves.

Yin loves the sense of authority that comes with being a mentor. I can tell from the way she scrutinizes our friends, with narrowed eyes and folded arms. How she leaves them nervous, trembling from their feet up and sweating, through her gaze alone.

And I have to admit, I do too. It's so much like when the adults of this town were once under our beck and call thanks to a certain Woo Foo artifact, except it's smaller in scale.

Breaking the silence, I step down towards the grass and pace back and forth. Like a rebel leading his band of revolutionaries, or a commanding officer addressing his soldiers with his skin-piercing words. I stop in front of each of them, my stare directed at their very souls. They tremble more. All but Lina, the testy one of the bunch.

"Listen up, people," I say to them, Yin joining me on my left. "As Woo Foo Knights, you must understand your own limitations. And you also have to know that you can push yourself past these limitations. So with that said, today's training's gonna be a bit more difficult than usual." My words are uttered harshly, almost without compassion. They sink into them, given how tense their bodies have become.

"If anyone here feels like bowing out, now's your chance to do so," says Yin, her tone soothing them. No one says a peep, so I assume that they won't bow out.

"So, you guys ready?" I spin my sword by its hilt and point it to the sky.

"Bring it on," says Dave in his usual, squeaky voice.

"Hell, yeah!" Roger junior exclaims, his fist raised to show his enthusiasm.

"Yup," says Lina, as collected as always.

"You bet I am," hollers Coop, his clucking making his boast less convincing.

Yin and I turn to look at each other in the face before going back to our four eager friends. She places a hand on my shoulder, a confident smirk across her lips.

"You ready, bro?" she asks, orbs of light shining around her hands.

Swinging my sword twice in front of me, I cock my head back and mirror my sister's zeal with a smirk of my own. "Of course. Alright, you pansies. Let's see if Sis and I can't whip you pansies into shape."

For the next four hours, these kids are not my friends. They are my students.

 _Our_ students.


	4. Alive, yet Dead

**_Calamity Hoppers ~Reprise~_**

 **by Christopher R. Martin  
**

Chapter 4 – Alive, yet Dead

* * *

Darkness is the only thing my eyes can find, without a crack of light nearby to break the monotony. It is my only form of company along with the musings that freely roam in my head. This pitch blackness is a form comfort as well as a form of suffering. Having come to know it as both, I have also accepted it as both.

Here in this place, time is a concept that is most foreign to its inhabitants. It carries on with its march on the surface above, leaving behind those trapped down here. What may seem to be seconds for such souls—souls such as my own—are probably days, weeks, months, years, decades or even centuries to the unversed.

Making things worse is the fact that I am by myself, prisoner to my own thoughts. Of my own failings when I was once part of the outside world. And to compound this torture is my suspended posture. I am afloat in this realm, my body hunched into a ball for protection. I cannot move. I cannot even inch a muscle.

But that's all going to change soon. I can feel it in my bones, in my nerves. In every fiber of who I am. What I am.

At last, the opportunity presents itself. A cracking sound is registered in my brain. Slender beams of light sneak their way into this realm. The warmth from them is also an alien concept, one that I have not felt in so long, but it doesn't make it any less inviting. If anything, it makes me want it and appreciate it more than I used to. Bordering on ravenous.

The illumination bestows me a most welcome freedom, the third and possibly last foreign concept. Slowly I glide my limbs from their prone posture. The sensation of being able to move my body once again is akin to a newborn baby who is about to enter the world.

"It's about time," I say as I look up towards the source of the light. My paws take hold of something solid – a wall on one side of this realm. I begin my ascent. At the apex of the climb is the magic seal that has kept me locked away down here. Or at least, the now fragmented remains that still dangle.

Cautiously I pull myself into the earth, where the warmth of sunlight welcomes me. Just when I thought that my returning ability to move every extremity of my body was the last of the surprises to come my way. Spreading my arms wide open, I bathe in this luminescence. I guess it is true that you don't really know what you have until after you've lost it.

Besides the sunlight, I notice the general emptiness of the place. There is only stone and dirt within miles of here. I could have sworn that this place was once a battlefield, where the envoys for good and evil were locked in conflict to enact that eternal struggle. And right here was supposed to be some villain's stronghold, or something along those lines, caught in the crossfire. I'm not sure. Eh, whatever.

Having indulged myself long enough, I cast my eyes on the enormous hole behind me. The Pit that I was sentenced to. Looking at this makes my blood boil. It is all of my mistakes, all of my imperfections, made visible for everyone to see, not just for me. Mistakes and imperfections that will be embedded in me until the day I die, and I will no doubt revisit. If I could, I'd erase this place forever.

With my most trusted weapon, an iaidō blade the same length as my arm, I swivel on my feet, the coat on my back flying with my motions, and stare at the distance beyond. _You've got a job to do, so best not to waste any time_ , a voice in my mind speaks. Walking away from the Pit, I shut my eyes and find other, less taxing musings.

 _Darkened clouds began to amass in the once clear sunny skies. As the first drop landed on her fair head, the beautiful maiden instinctively hurried across the asphalt with her arms draped over the child in the protective pouch that was slung across her back._

 _She needed to get away from the rain. And with how fast and heavy it poured, she had to be quick. But little did she know that in her attempt to find shelter, the straps of her pouch were about to break from the strain put on them._

 _Coming to a certain junction on this part of town, she breathed a sigh of relief at what fell before her eyes. Her destination was close. The cars that drove by lengthened the delay, but were cleared out in a matter of seconds to grant her passage. From one side of the district to the next, she ran and ran, her upper body arched above the baby, her bosom brushing against his soft skin. His crying throughout the trip would be silenced soon, she reminded herself, and her role in this life would be fulfilled._

 _Her destination was very close, and soon she found herself striding across the front lawn. At the doorway of the dojo she knelt down, undid the pouch from her person and settled it on the doormat. She knocked on the door twice, hoping that the response she had expected would immediately follow._

 _There were footsteps approaching inside, a prompt for her to leave as soon as possible. And so she did, but not without first moving the top of the baby's bundled cloth and planting a kiss upon his forehead. The last that the pup saw of her was the tail flickering behind her back. A vision that would be buried as he grew older._

 _In a matter of seconds she was outside of the dojo's limits, now taking solace—or a semblance of it—by hiding behind a streetlight at the opposite side of the intersection. She watched as a middle aged panda in disheveled fur appeared through the parting doors and cradled the pup into his arms before taking him inside._

 _In her observation, she felt her heart grow heavy. It had been heavy for a while, ever since she knew what she had to do, and every action taken up to that point only added to the cumbersome weight. But this was for the best. This would be for his sake, she reminded herself. Her part was finished. Her role in his life had been fulfilled at last._

 _Now it was the panda's turn to play his role…_

I shake my head then and there. That wasn't exactly quite what I expected. Of all the memories I could've revisited, it just had to be that one. An account of where I came from, told to me once before, in the form of moving pictures rolling in my mind.

Not that I really give a shit about it. I'm here, standing tall, with the entire world waiting for me. Nothing more, nothing less.

Storing the thought away into the depths of my mind, I divert my eyes from the dirt ground to the distance beyond me. The sun in my eyes is a welcome feeling, and it reiterates to me that there are duties that require my attention. Loose ends from a time long past that need to be tied. That will be tied.

An image of the panda blossoms in my mind in place of the musing that it came from. I almost believe that it's there to mock me, and I suppose that's one of its purposes, but really it's there to spur me on. A drive to tell me exactly what these responsibilities of mine are.

"Yo," I say in a hushed tone, feeling a growing breeze blow my fur into erect strands and my coat in place. "I believe that there's some unfinished business we need to take care of."

Clenching my hand into a fist at a blinding pace, I proceed towards the direction of the wind. Towards the town that I once called my home.

Walking in a leisurely manner, I remind myself of that musing just now. What truly matters is the here and the now. The present, plain and simple. What matters is that I am alive and kicking, which is good. The rest of the world may not be aware of this, but what's there for me to do to change that? They'll know in due time. All of them. Every last one of these cretins. They will know my presence. They will feel it.

They will fear it.


	5. The Woo Foo Blood Inside My Veins

**_Calamity Hoppers ~Reprise~_**

 **by Christopher R. Martin  
**

Chapter 5 – The Woo Foo Blood Inside My Veins  


* * *

Chapter 5 – The Woo Foo Blood Inside My Veins

"Nice try, log boy, but it's not going to cut it!" I exclaim as I parry another one of Dave's punches and sweep him off of his feet. Holding him in an armbar, I pin him to the ground by his shoulder with my left knee, and grin.

Dave, seeing that I've outmatched him, taps my lap with his unbound hand, and I release my hold on him. I help him back on his feet and brush off the blades of grass that have lodged into his person. The ones that have found their way into his mouth, he expels them in a sputter.

I look around the backyard and see my other friends either seated on the ground or lying flat on their backs, groaning from the exertion put in their training. Actually, it's more from me dispatching them with sheer ease. Films of perspiration have risen from their pores, signifying the progress they've made. Our grand battle with Eradicus and his faction aside, it's clear to me that they're still very green. That they've yet to see conflict in a degree and way that my sister and I have. For me and Yin, this—training and actual combat—is just another normal day. And it will be only a matter of time for them to get used to it as well.

Maybe. Somewhat. Eh, I'm keeping my feelings reserved for the time being.

"Could we please…take a break?" asks Dave, his wobbly feet giving way, causing him to fall on his behind.

"I don't think…I can handle much more," Roger Jr. whines, his chest dilating and retracting from breathing.

Lina and Coop are too preoccupied with their breathing to even get a word out.

As I observe the two of our Woo Foo inferiors and hear their requests, Yin passes them one by one and offers them a drink from her water bottle and quick wipe from the towel around her arm. She soon makes her way to where Dave and I are, the latter greedily yanking the bottle and sucking on the nozzle.

The more these guys complain, the more I feel compelled to push them. The harder I want to push them. If us rabbit twins are tasked with training a new line of Woo Foo Knights, then it only makes sense for us to teach them the way our master trained us, except much less lenient.

Fortunately for them, I'm still rather new to this teaching thing myself, as is Yin. That, and I'm feeling merciful—completely different from complacency—today.

"Alright, fine," I say and shake my head, to which I receive slight cheers and sighs of relief from everyone.

Yin makes her way towards my side and puts a hand on my shoulder. "You kinda went a little overboard, don't you think bro?" she asks with a quirk of her eyebrow.

"It's what I do." The bitterness in the response stuns my sister and momentarily steals her will to speak.

She merely sighs at my statement. Reclaiming her bottle from Dave, she gazes at my friends and flashes a smile at them. "So since you guys have done a terrific job, why don't we reward you for your efforts? Throw you a little bone, perhaps." The comment earns her an unamused look from Lina. She turns to her and adds, "Figuratively speaking, of course."

"What have you got in mind?" asks Roger, holding his knees against his chest.

Yin leans her head on her fist in consideration. "How about a movie? Our treat." The suggestion is met with agreeing murmurs from everyone. Well, everyone except me. "What about you, Yang? Feel like joining us?"

I say nothing at all to her and, instead, just shrug at the question. I am still fuming at her from what had happened the other day. From the blow she and Dad had dealt to my pride. Of course, I'd never tell her this. That's up to her to decipher. And the fact that this remains between us, and that it makes her want to rip the fur out of her stupid little head, makes it somewhat bearable.

"What exactly is"—she imitates my shrug, annoyed—"that supposed to mean? Yes? No? What?"

"Eh," I reply with an ambiguous pout of my lip.

She concedes by rolling her eyes. "I'll take that as a 'yes', so…movie it is, then."

My friends rise up off the ground and let out a chorus of cheers and whooping. Inside our room, Yin and I change from our Woo Foo gi to more casual clothing. While she chooses a short-skirted lavender sundress, my choice of clothing is a pair of violet jeans and a brown long-sleeved buttoned shirt.

Gaining approval from our master-slash-father and bidding him goodbye, we leave through the front door and head on out of the premises.

The town on a Monday afternoon is fairly busy, but it's nothing compared to the hustle and bustle one would see on other days. Only a handful of people stand and walk among us, minding their own business as do us. I can count the number of cars we've sighted on both of my hands. On the other hand, the whole place does look orderly since it isn't that active. There is nary a wad of gum or a crumpled ball of paper or an empty bottle or an uptight driver to ruin this pleasant, if not so-so picture.

It takes us a good five or so minutes to arrive at the cinemas. Every one of us gives our suggestions as to what to watch, looking over at the posters and signs to get some ideas. For me, _Camp Bloodslaughter 7_ stands out the most from all of these movies, but alas… If it wasn't for that damned PG-13 rating, I'd be screaming the title at the top of my lungs, and they'd agree to go see it, too. On that note, I'd have seen the previous installment in the _Camp Bloodslaughter_ series as well.

Before I can have my say on our flick for the afternoon, my head starts to feel light as a balloon. I can feel my senses distorting or outright deadening in short order. My eyes now see nothing but black and white, the same gray accents from my dream, instead of the bright and vibrant palette of everyday life. And above all, my friends are nowhere to be seen.

In fact, there is no one else in sight. Am I back in that purgatory from the other night? I can't be, since I'm still on this sidewalk. Still in front of the cinema that we're about to go in to. Or is this just another game? Another trick my mind is playing on me, a hallucination? No, this is too real, too tangible, to be one. Another one of my mentor's borderline sick methods of teaching me a lesson, maybe? It had better not be. Why is this happening?

A moment spent gaining my bearings later, and I _do_ see someone else besides myself. He approaches on the very same side of the street as me, and his apparition sends a coarse sensation streaming in my veins. It is a canine roughly twice as tall as me in grayish fur, wearing nothing more but a pair of loose pants—the bottom half of a gi, I believe—and a very long coat that stretches down to his knees and barely hides his well-trimmed features—six-pack, chiseled chest, the works. The most noticeable part of him, however, is the weapon he carries with him. A small sword safe in its sheath.

His features become more defined the closer he comes. His eyes are vacant, trained only on the path before him. On his destination. Not once do they deviate. Not once does he glance. I wonder if he's noticed me staring at him. If I am not the only one to pay him heed.

As he draws near to me, the sensation in me burns hot as the sun. It is practically screaming. I feel every pint of blood flowing in me growing in temperature. This Woo Foo Knight's Blood. Could he be the one I seek? The one who visited me in my sleep? Is he Woo Foo as well? The signs all point toward this possibility, but I can't be sure until I follow through on it. If I _ever_ decide to follow through on it.

Bedazzled, I mutter, "Whoa." Whoever this wolf is, he must be what I'm looking for, especially if he can make my blood churn as it does now.

In my reverie, I feel my whole world rocking to and fro. My senses returning, I hear someone call my name.

"Yang?" That's one voice. Coop's voice.

"Yang." Another one. Lina's, this time.

"Yang!" A final voice says to break me out of my trance at last. My sister's voice. "Come back down to Earth, bro."

"Oh. Sorry," I say, my vision normalizing. How long did I dose off for?

My friends have formed a circle around me and share concerned looks. They're all so close to me. It's a miracle I haven't stopped breathing or my heart hasn't skipped a beat.

"Something wrong, dude?" asks Roger, leaning his head closer and waving his hand directly at my face. Failing to notice that I've already woken up.

I catch his arm, finding no humor in any of this. "Stop it."

"You seem completely out of it," states Lina, foregoing her sass for a moment.

"Are you alright?" adds Yin, to my suspicion. That had better be a serious question.

I shake my head quickly three more times and gain my bearings. "It's no big deal. Come on, I'll go get us our seats."

The six of us head for the booth. I glance over my shoulder one more time to try and find the wolf, but he is nowhere in sight…


	6. Fancy a Drink?

_**Calamity Hoppers ~Reprise~**_

 **by Christopher R. Martin**

Chapter 6 – Fancy a Drink?

* * *

This place has changed so much in my absence that I'm not even sure I'm in the same old town I used to know. Wherever I look, the citizens have their gadgets and gizmos at the ready. These portable phones, these 'laptops' as they call it, and even the drastically-improved vehicles appear to be doing everything for their owners. At one point, I even think that they might be driving their cars without the need for a steering wheel, but that might be pushing it.

Everything around these parts seems to now revolve around machines and technology, and the convenience and simplicities they guarantee. I don't recall everything here being so…advanced. And I definitely don't recall everyone being so contented, so at ease. One thing I will give this place credit for, it looks much more appealing to the eye. Much cleaner, more organized than the town I come from.

All of this is so far beyond my understanding. Not that I can't get a grasp on these brand new concepts, and I will. One way or another. But it's going to take me a while to get accustomed to this new world. I just need a good place to start.

Right now, I need to find something that's faintly familiar to me. Something to indulge in and work away the shell-shock.

Dusk is now fast approaching. The sun is nearing the end of its descent, the sky orange. With the first hour of nighttime now upon us, the streetlights are flicking on, and the buildings are also illuminated from the inside.

In my aimless travels, I find a brightly lit bar in one of the town's more secluded districts. A towering neon marquee sign stands right besides the building, its design comprised of a pool cue, a musical note and an opened glass bottle. A sensory assault seems a more fitting observation. At the bottom of the logo shines the name of the establishment. _Wild Ones' Booze, Beats and Billiards._

Yet another change in this town that I don't know of. But unlike everything else before this, it's something I can easily attach to.

After an entire day of trying to get a grasp on what's new and what stayed the same, I believe a nice little drink is in order. I make my way into the bar, which definitely lives up to its namesake. Pool tables are on one end of the bar, ball after ball rolling right into the pockets. A jukebox stands on another end, blasting a very rowdy tune for everyone's enjoyment. Right before my very eyes is the bar itself, with shelves of alcoholic beverages lined up behind the female bartender.

I should feel at home just from these distinctions alone, but immediately upon entering, I am met with the suspicious looks of the customers. Just to name a few of these guys, there's a tiny cockroach with a tablecloth—or I guess it's a cape?—tied behind his back. There's some blue-skinned lady in a dress shirt, slacks and high heels, sitting side by side with her fellow females. To my left is a goat—or horse, or moose, whatever—whose musculature possibly outpaces a microscopic brain inside his head. Right beside him is some rodent inside a ball, sharply dressed for his kind.

Not a single remotely friendly face can be found in this crowd. Every last one of these people looks like the sort to stir up trouble, and they seem none too pleased with my arrival.

I get the feeling that I've walked into a lion's den or some other dreadful place, but disregard it not a second later. I need some refreshment and no troublemaker, no matter how intimidating, is going to scare me off. Even if I have to start a bar brawl, I am going to get myself a nice, refreshing drink.

Paying their eyes no heed, I walk in a straight line for the counter, where the young female bartender, the _only_ friendly face in this bar, wipes one last glass dry.

"Well, good evening," she greets, nodding and smiling despite the attention I'm drawing. "How can I help you?"

"I'll have a glass of that, thanks," I answer, pointing to a bottle labeled 'Theory'.

Rather than fetching the bottle from the shelf, she pulls out what appears to be a hose from under the counter. With a push of a button, a stream of light yellow liquid gushes from the nozzle and into the glass, which she gives to me.

Again, these newfangled advancements never cease to amaze me. I wonder how much this kind of drink costs if it's dispensed this way. Effortless and convenient. Probably a lot. Then again, in this new town, this new _world_ ,I could be wrong.

 _Stop with the worrying already. You'll have all this figured out in no time._ For my sake, I hope so.

I search the inner pockets of my coat to check for any money I may have. Rattles can be heard from inside. A few pennies or dimes, I'd wager. Damn it. Looks like my agenda's been held back by a significant amount.

I feel a hand on my shoulder – the bartender's hand. She hasn't foregone her smile, and I'm happy for that because it makes being here, among these unpleasant folk, slightly more tolerable.

"Relax. This one's on me," she says, winking, to which I let off a chuckle. As I take the first sip of my beer, she leans forward with her clasped hands resting on the counter's surface. "I don't recall seeing your face before. You new in town or something?"

"You could say that," I answer. She has absolutely no idea. No one else here does. Another sip of my glass, and she snickers at the frothy mustache left behind on my lip. "I gotta say, this isn't half bad. In fact, I think I like it." It definitely makes all this trouble worthwhile.

For a second, the bartender is pleased at serving a happy customer. It might be more than she can say for her regulars, though. This is my take on it, anyway, and the reason for it is because a dour countenance replaces her lustrous mask when she sees these punks eyeing me from behind.

This sudden change has me half curious and half worried.

"Better watch your back while you're here. As you can tell, these guys don't play nice at all," she says as she busies herself with a new task, sweeping the floor with a broom.

"Thanks for the warning, but I'll be fine," I assure her with a grin, though it doesn't quell her. I sip some more of my beer.

"Are you sure about that?" a new voice announces, getting me to find the source. It's the cockroach with the dishrag—or a cape, I don't know and I don't care—on its back. Its forelimbs are alight with red sparks of energy. It's a sign that he wants to pick a fight with me. A sign that I do not acknowledge, for his sake. For _their_ sake.

"Um, can I help you?" I ask, not impressed in the least.

"No, a better question would be, 'do you have any idea what this place is'?" asks the cockroach.

I shrug at his question as if to say "Isn't it obvious?" look away from him and continue with my drink.

The insect has not left my side yet. I don't know if he has a bone to pick with me, but he had better get away from me quick. Otherwise, he'll find himself flat on his back and struggling for breath.

He then pulls me by the collar and leans his face close to mine until we're both touching each other. "Don't turn away from me when I'm speaking to you," he says, his voice bristling with rage. "Now you listen to me and you listen well. This right here is a bar strictly for villains. And in case you haven't figured out, that's us. So I'll only tell you this once: leave now, or face the wrath of Carl, the Evil Cockroach Wizard!"

He drives his dramatic enunciation home by lifting his glowing hand triumphantly. And it might be just me, but I could have sworn that lightning just struck a second after he said that.

I try not to laugh my head off at this. At all of this. These must be strange times if this band of misfits are now in charge of the town. Seriously, who died and made them villains? Or did some poor sap lose a bet? My attempt to keep a straight face falters as a chuckle slides off of my tongue. It's a good thing that it's the only one that escapes me.

Doing away with the humor, I give a glower to this bug, Carl.

"And _I'm_ going to tell you this once," I say intimidatingly to outdo his anger. I clamp his spindly limb with two of my fingers and bring my face in an inch away from his. "Get your filthy little paws off of my coat." I wrest his limb off of my collar and finish the last of my beer.

Nothing seems to deter this fool since I catch a glance of him shaking his arm—or leg—more in annoyance rather than fright. Hell, I doubt that any of these people would be afraid of me. None of them could possibly fear a fifteen year-old canine trying to act tough with his taste in clothes that scream out 'piss me off and you'll pay', or with the sword in his grasp and, even less so, with his calm demeanor.

But they don't know that this is more than an act. They don't know that I'm so much more than what my body and my age claim. That the power in my possession, which even _I_ am weary of, is far beyond their comprehension. And if they know what's best for them, they'll keep it that way by minding their own damn business.

"Are you actually trying to threaten me?" asks Carl with a quirked eyebrow. How foolish of him. How pathetic.

"Are _you_ still talking to me?" My response is lacking in care. In respect.

"This is _our_ bar! This is _our_ territory! You are not wanted here! We are villains. We are evil. E-V-I-L. You, my friend, are barking up the wrong tree! Don't make me say it again!" Instead of sounding like the villain he is, the villain he claims to be, he comes off more as a child than anything. He's worse than a child, to be quite honest.

And by the looks of it, he isn't going to quit this anytime soon, so I have to do something. They leave me no other choice. Slapping the counter with the palms of my paws, I turn my seat and glare at him.

"You know what, fine. Since you obviously aren't going to shut the hell up, and since _none_ of you are going to stop gawking at me, then how about this?" I swivel the chair a little more so that I'm facing the gang of villains behind me. "We settle this the hard way. It's one of me against the lot of you. If you guys kick my ass, then you won't hear from me ever again. But if _I_ kick all of your asses, then I'm staying. And this bar will be open to anyone. What do you think? Sound fair?"

In a matter of seconds, laughter erupts across the place. They don't even take a moment to consider this. Each and every last one of them finds my proposition to be hilarious. Another mistake they have made, and probably the last.

The guffawing dies down as they wipe their tears of hysteria from their eyes. Once the last of them has quieted down, a few of them give their answers.

"You're out of your mind, boy. We're not going to fight you."

"That is just so typical of you men. So boastful, but never able to deliver."

"What in the world makes you think we'll accept? You're obviously outnumbered and outmatched. Not only would you be wasting our time, but you'd be wasting yours as well. Not to mention you'd be wasting your life, too."

"I speak on everyone's behalf when I say that we take our villainy seriously. We have, as we say, much bigger fish to fry, like those blasted Woo Foo cretins. So for the very last time, just run along, stray little puppy." I stand corrected; _that_ is the last mistake they will ever make.

I should be insulted by that 'little puppy' quip that the hamster—yeah, that's it, 'hamster'—but oddly enough, I'm not. The comment about Woo Foo strikes a chord with me. Hearing these guys regard it so bitterly, it might be what I think it means. For the first time in so long, the age-old martial art is being seen as an object of respect. A force to be reckoned with.

That, or it could just be my senses dulling from the alcohol. These times are so topsy-turvy that just about anything can happen. Nevertheless, it _is_ nice to hear.

The thought is withdrawn as fast as it arises, and I sigh to express my disappointment. This could have been a perfect opportunity for me to get back into shape. To retain the sense of direction I once had. It is what it is, I guess. I can't change their mind.

Or maybe I can…

I turn my face away to hide a smirk rising across my lips. "What a shame," I say, giving my glass to the bartender. "I was kinda eager to see if this little rogues' gallery here could put up a fight. It is what it is, I suppose. Guess you guys are all hype and nothing more. Oh, well."

The bar falls silent. Even the jukebox stops playing its current music track about two-thirds of the way.

"What did you say?" the moose demands, thrusting his index finger at me.

"As a matter of fact, this bar should have its name changed from 'Wild Ones' to 'Wussy Ones'. I think it's more appropriate, wouldn't you agree?" I nudge the bartender with my elbow, to which she giggles. "How about you, Jiminy?"

I then give Carl a nudge, which makes his blood boil. That priceless snarl he wears says everything I need to know.

"That does it!" he erupts, jets of smoke shooting from his ears. "You want a fight that badly? Very well. Let's just get this over with so everyone here can move on with their lives. Come on, everyone! Someone needs to teach this mutt the meaning of respect!"

The insect storms out through the doors with his cape blowing behind him. Everyone else follows closely behind, clamoring to one another indecipherably.

As soon as they are out of sight, I lower my head and chuckle. The bartender, on the other hand, pokes me on the shoulder, a grave expression upon her.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Did your brain get saturated all of a sudden or something? You are gonna get yourself killed out there," she says, slamming a glass she had just wiped on the surface behind the counter to stress her point. "You might as well be dancing with the Devil himself."

Her concern, though I do appreciate it, is met with a round of soft laughter. "If that's the case, then it won't be the first time. I've had a couple of run-ins with my own devils back in my day." That last phrase strikes her as curious. Confusing. Not that it'd matter to her. "Thanks for caring, but like I said, I'll be fine. My little friend here is not just for show."

I bring my sword up to the counter – an iaidō sword as long as my arm. It'd take me a long time to explain what it is to her, so I let its mere sight do the talking. She appears convinced, though, given that her features lighten, but I can't change her worry for my safety.

Exiting the bar, I am met with the many 'villains' of the town as they stand in wait. One at a time I imprint their appearances into my mind, but only a select few of them are worth even a mutter to me.

There's Carl, who's a given already since he came to me in the first place.

Next to him is an even smaller insect—I think it's an ant, whatever—that's decked out in a silver suit of armor. The two of them must be related because I see them argue in a way that siblings do, to see who will outdo who. To see who between them is the better villain.

The burly moose with the iron antlers might be a threat himself, if his brain wasn't a hollow mass of tissue. If said antlers didn't do most of the work for him.

Another noteworthy face is the blue-skinned witch with a burning hatred for men. Not that I'll see her again after this, but seriously, what is her problem with guys like me?

Last but not least is another female adversary: the yellow-skinned girl around her mid or late teens dressed up like some school girl from the East, lugging around a large hunk of metal she calls a sword. I'll be frank that she's quite a catch, 'gifted' in more areas than one. And she might just be the most competent of these bozos if she can use that sword well. Between her and that ant, of course

I can go on and on about these guys. They've certainly outnumbered me, but whether or not they've _outmatched_ me remains to be seen.

"You are going to regret this, little man," says the blue witch. Of course _she'd_ be the one to say that.

"Regret what? Giving you dumbasses a much-needed facelift?" I say with a shrug and grin. "Nah, I don't see that happening anytime soon."

"Ulti-moose will not stand for your insolence any longer, little pup," the moose resents, and yet again I'm doing my best to suppress a round of hysterical laughter. 'Ulti-moose'? I can't believe that someone would actually come up with that crap.

"Yeah, okay. Hey goat man, I've got a question for you before we get started. Do you know what two plus two is?" I tilt my head to my right, fold my arms and watch the poor fool scratch his head. "I'll give you a hint: it's not infinity and it's not twenty-two, either."

"Enough!" the ant interjects, sporting a thick Scottish accent. He slams down a small Warhammer that's right for his size. For how small it is, though, the ground quakes from its blow. "Your banter only prolongs the inevitable, boy! Let us begin!"

I forego my humor right there, unsheathe my sword and flourish it. My mouth shapes into a fiery grin, and the beckon that leaves it is just as heated, if not more.

"If that's how you want it."

Then it begins. The lot of them sprint straight for me, their weapons and powers primed. I can feel it in my veins. This battle will be a monumental one.

Once the first strike is thrown, by Carl no less, I can tell that there is only one rule in this fight: there are no rules. Every option is valid. Magic spells of multiple varieties are flung at me. Punches and kicks of different forms, or little to no form in the case of—dare I say it—Ulti-moose, are thrown at every direction, at every angle.

Whatever these guys they can get their mitts on, in fact, they can and do use them to their advantage. One of them yanks out a streetlight from off the ground and swing it at me, another uses a park bench and some even toss a kitchen sink at me. The bystanders around us wise up and get out of the way, thank goodness. The sight of it as the faucet still gushes out a stream of water is kind of funny, yet tells me how far they will go to put me in my place.

It is one hellish skirmish. It can end in only one of two ways.

Each attempt at leaving the smallest of dents on me falls just short. Either I deflect them with the edge of my sword or parry them altogether by ducking, weaving or somersaulting. At one point, the yellow-skinned girl and I clash blades, and the blaze in her eyes is almost on-par with mine. I do mean 'almost'.

"It's not the size of the sword, honey. It's the hands on the hilt that truly matter," I manage to quip before she pushes against me and sends me backflipping to safety.

They catch on with my strategy in a matter of minutes and stop in their tracks. I observe the town around me. All that damage done, and not a single scratch on my body. Pitiful.

"Is this some kind of joke?!" yells Carl, shooting rays of red-tinted magic from his limbs in anger. "You wanted to fight us, and here you are doing anything but! Are you even going to try?"

I could have made another crack right there, but a thumping in my chest pushes my retort back down my throat. None of them can see it because I'm standing firm, masking the sharp, burning pain inside. It robs me of the will to act momentarily. Once I regain myself, I raise my head up and see the villains waiting impatiently for a response.

"Are you even _listening_ to us?" the ant adds, threatening to pound the ground again with his hammer.

A new kind of grin emerges on my lips. It is colder than the previous one. More sinister. Thirsty for blood, hungry for flesh. Raising the scabbard next to my hip, I pull my iaidō sword out of it and lock eyes with my reflection and then with them. I take up a firm stance, feet spread apart shoulder-length, breathing steadily, in through my snout and out through my mouth.

The smile vanishes briefly from my face before returning for the villains to see. They gaze at the fangs protruding out of the lips. At their gleaming tips. At my crinkled, ardent stare.

"You losers have been warned," I say in a soft tone, lowering my posture to get ready.

The battle resumes as I lunge at them with my sword reared above my head. I leap from one foe to another to gauge what they can do. To see how long they can last.

One at a time, my enemies are dispatched without too much trouble on my part. The muscular moose goes down the quickest of them, his formless strikes unable to hit their mark. The blue-skinned witch has a go at me with her magic and the occasional comments about me being a 'pompous, ego-inflated man' or something along those lines, but she is soon subdued the moment I shoot forth my own spell, an incapacitating lightning bolt from my fingertips. The ant and the yellow girl are probably the most fearsome of the lot, but it's not saying much. Every swing of their weapons tells of their pride. The pride of a warrior. Admirable as it may be, it's not enough, and I return their attempted offense with a flurry of slices from my blade. Gashes open on the insect's face and thorax, and on the girl's arm and abdomen. They collapse to the ground in unearthly cries of pain.

The last of them falls before me, laying sprawled along the ground with the rest of them. I withdraw my sword, the rushing sound it makes pleasant to my ears. All that remains is Carl, who stands face to face with me in the wake of the fury. He immerses himself in the collateral damage heaped on this district of town, the decimated vehicles, benches, signs and asphalt. On his allies as they lay there, soaked in puddles of their own blood. Fear burns in his eyes and soon enough they spread throughout his body. Whatever trace of bravery is left is shortly overridden.

"Impossible…" he utters, the reddish glow on his limbs subsiding. Both his legs give way, and he slumps to his knees. Poor, pathetic creature. "Who are you? _What_ are you…?"

"I'm afraid that's the least of your worries," I boast, spreading my legs apart shoulder-with.

Lifting my open paws upward, I affirm my posture and channel everything I have towards them. The earth underneath the soles of my feet starts to shake from the sheer concentration I am mustering. Everyone within a three-or-so-mile radius can feel it. They can feel this energy that swells in my body.

"What are you doing?!" asks Carl, jumping to his feet, overwhelmed by his terror.

"Woo Foo AURA!" As I invoke these words, a flood of light pours out and manifests into a shining sphere in between my hands. The light pours across my body. It transforms into an apparition that bears the same canine features as me. This is _the_ signature technique of Woo Foo.

At the center of my Aura, I gaze at the insect as he cowers uncontrollably, unable to get his fright under wraps. His trembling, coupled with his tortured face and the injuries I have dealt him…it's all too priceless. In any second now, he's going to beg me for mercy. Those gaping, unnerved eyes say so.

"What's wrong?" I ask with a sadist's smile, in feigned concern. "Didcha lose your balls already? It'd be a shame if you did. But really, who could blame you?"

Carl backs away as my Aura stalks him on all fours. He stumbles on his cape and now gets to crawling on his back. I'm surprised he hasn't turned tail and ran. He may be afraid, but he isn't backing down.

He and I are now inches apart, and I pin him down with my Aura's right forepaw. Carefully, so that he isn't crushed from the weight on top of him. Underneath me, I can hear him struggling to break free. His strained groans and shouts of suffering. Should I finish him off or spare him? Live or die?

It'd be so simple if I am to just snap him by the thorax. To tear his neck in two. To rip him asunder. But I do not. I look into his miserable stare, his miserable state, and lift my Aura's paw off of him.

There are many ways I could have killed him. The possibilities are endless. Yes, it'd be easy, but it'd be _too_ easy. An easy victory isn't a satisfying one to me. There's no thrill to it. No excitement. No fulfillment. I wasn't expecting these chumps to push me to my limits, but at the same time, I wasn't expecting such a quick end.

At least I can say that I'm not totally over the deep end. At least I'm assured that I'm still me, and not some monstrosity. And that redeeming myself, undoing the sins I've committed, is not a lost cause. That much, I can say.

My Aura is withdrawn back into my body. I walk over to a battered and broken Carl and look him dead in the eye.

"Count your blessings, Jiminy," I say coldly and turn around.

Everywhere around me, I can sense many a townsperson standing in awe at the destructive display that has just now come to pass, setting their eyes upon me. I am overcast with a torrent of emotion, mostly ones that leave a bitter pang upon my tongue. They are confused. They are awestruck. They are afraid. Each and every one of them. Yet some look with amazement. Most of them are children.

The bartender stands amidst the gathering of people. She is the one nearest to me and the most bewildered out of all of them. As the closest thing I've made to a friend so far, it only feels right that she be the one I should try and soothe.

I hold my sword out to my side, and at my command, it vanishes in an array of sparkles. I tuck my paws into my pockets and sway my head to the right.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," I say with a sigh, anticipating the worst. Not out of pessimism, but just to be cautious. "Listen, it's all well and good if you wanna pretend we never met. I don't blame you. It's probably better for you if you did, anyway."

Looking at her for one more second proves to be difficult, so I shut my eyes and turn away from her. I'm about to begin my aimless walk anew, when I feel a hand on my shoulders stopping me from taking a step forward. I don't turn around.

"Thank you," says the bartender, as tender as her touch, to the astonishment of the townspeople and mine. Her words are what get me to face her.

"What are you—"

"You showed a lot of guts taking those guys on. You did a favor when you taught them what for, something I wish I could do but never could." She smiles softly.

"I only did what had to be done," I say with a nudge of my shoulder.

"And this town could use more guys like you." Now I'm lost. And here I thought that she'd be running the other direction and screaming for her life. Here I thought that I'd be the one to console her. It doesn't matter much. Her comments relieve me, somewhat. "Tell you what? Since you did the joint a huge favor, why don't you come work there? We've got an opening right now that's just waiting to be taken."

"Um, thanks?" I say tentatively. A job? Is she really offering me a job? My fight just now was easy, but _this_ is too good to be true. Then again, if I accept, then it'll definitely help me with my money problems. "But I'm not sure if I should."

"Oh, don't overthink it. We could use an extra pair of hands. Even if you're not eighteen years old, you'll at least pass off as one. I'll just tell my boss that you are. And don't worry, I'll take the flak for you if my boss _does_ catch on, which isn't as likely as you think"—she leans closer and puts a hand besides her mouth—"Don't tell anyone I said that." She whispers, and I laugh a bit. "What do you say? Yes or no?"

Okay, _now_ it's too good to be true. She's offering to vouch for me _and_ take the fall for me? Contrary to her advice, I lean my chin on my fist and spend more than ten seconds considering this.

Her comment just now strikes a chord in me – the one about how this place could use more people like me. I could say the same thing for her, and I probably should, given the kindness she's shown. Times really _have_ changed in my absence, in a way that I'm not used to yet. And maybe in a way that's not half bad, if this bartender is any indication.

"Sounds good," I say, reciprocating her smile and shaking her hand.

"Now come with me. We've got a bit of paperwork to do." I follow her into the bar, but not without one final glance at the aftermath of the battle.

The road to atonement begins here. I may not know how long it is, but I'll reach the end of it. I'll wipe this slate clean, as I have sworn on the blood that runs in me.


	7. The Academy

_**Calamity Hoppers ~Reprise~**_

 **by Christopher R. Martin**

Chapter 7 – The Academy

* * *

The schoolhouse is teeming with children of various sexes, races and ages. Their laughter and chatter pervades the air contained by these walls, a tranquil melody that's easy on the ears, especially with the roughness that's typical of a Monday morning. Some of these kids are roughly the same age as me and Yin, while most of them are younger than us by one or two years, or even four at the most.

It can't be put into words the diversity in the many species that I witness before my eyes. Canines. Felines. Reptiles. Amphibians. Rodents. Arthropods. Birds. You name it. Everyone in this place is different. Distinct in appearance and in who they are.

Not that there's anything wrong with that. Why _do_ people get scared of being different, anyway? From the day we're born, we already have something distinct. Something that sets us apart from everyone else. If it really _is_ such a big deal, then why worry about it later down the line? As a matter of fact, why worry about it at all?

Ugh. Here I go again, mulling over such random questions that I most likely won't revisit in the future. It must be natural for me. Or it could be that some of my sister has rubbed off on me. Speaking of which, I lean my elbow on the desk and watch the door to my left, waiting for Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes herself to come through it at any minute now.

Like any other ordinary classroom, these rambunctious creatures that just barely pass for children in my eyes have busied themselves with their own little thing. Run-of-the-mill conversations where they discuss the latest talk of the town. Paper plane contests with the excitement of a football game. Spitball contests that speak for themselves, the stray shots unintentionally hitting me. Or they would have, if it weren't for my battle-honed reflexes letting me dodge them before they can even hit their mark.

A trio of children—a goat, a platypus and a gerbil—scratch their heads and giggle nervously at their spitballs skidding down the whiteboard behind my back. "Sorry, Mister Yang," they say. A small fraction of me milks the 'Mister' part for all it's worth. Even if I don't show it, I love the feeling of seniority I get from simply entering this little building.

I point an open palm at the skidding wads of paper and levitate them to the trash can with my magic, which I'm becoming more and more used to as of late.

I suppose this calls for a bit of elaboration, so here goes…

The general consensus on Woo Foo has seen an immense change following our monumental battle with Eradicus and his corps of flunkies. Everyone in this town was impressed by our bravery, our skill, grateful for our unfailing service to them. A service that has long since gone thankless. Many became eager to practice our martial art. Learning the most basic magic spells was more than enough for a good number of the townspeople. Others wanted to learn about more in-depth topics, such as pressure points and how they differ from species to species, or the 'center of gravity' concept, or the rise, fall and second rise of Woo Foo itself. Most of these people turned out to be children.

That's when it occurred to us. And by 'us', I mean mostly Master Yo, or Dad. A child. The very embodiment of hope, the future. Who better to know our art than an impressionable young mind? By nurturing and teaching each child accordingly, Woo Foo would live on. Peace is sure to remain.

And thus the Woo Foo Academy is born.

Students can acquire an ample amount of knowledge and wisdom that will see them through all the way to Grade One Woo Foo. And the decision to graduate out of the Academy and into regular training, or leave satisfied with what they've gained, is theirs to make. It's a simple, yet efficient system, much like a typical school, except with the weight of the world about to rest on their shoulders. The shoulders of these aspiring young children.

But we'd never tell them that. It's tempting, though.

Yin and I, along with our circle of friends who aided us in the fight with Eradicus, make up the faculty. Dad is the sole alumnus of sorts. I, however, am more of a supervisor than anything; my sister and friends do majority of the teaching. Though I do dabble in it at times, mostly during training exercises, especially sparring.

Expelling a long exhale, I sit up and squint at the door. This is so not like Yin. Normally, she'd wait for _me_ to get in here, not the other way around. I wonder what's keeping her.

From the chatty and active bunch of tykes, a humble little fox girl in white fur with mild blue hints and brown cascades of hair stands from her seat and makes for the desk. Her clothing is comprised of a light yellow short-sleeved, mid-length skirted sundress, a bracelet on her right arm and a set of petite Mary Janes. There's something about her that I can't decipher. Yin can also see it, feel it, but she's as clueless as I am.

The girl stands face to face with me.

"Mister Yang?" she starts, gently prodding the arm I'm leaning on. "When does our class begin?"

"Just sit down, Weiss," I say without a lick of interest, rubbing the dust from my eyes. "Any second now, Yi—I mean, 'Miss Yin'"—I make air quotes with my fingers as I say this—"will be coming through that door. We'll start as soon as she gets here."

"Alright," says Weiss, complying and returning to her table.

Another minute of waiting—that's how I count it, anyway—is forced on us. And then, silence. The door slides open—a signal for the students to stop what they're doing and get seated. Rays of sunlight jet into the room past the widening opening. I feel them. Footsteps enter, and wouldn't you know it? It's her. _Her_ footsteps.

In comes my younger twin sister—younger by ninety seconds—textbooks and all in tow. Took her long enough. Her eyes are framed with a pair of reading glasses, even though neither of us actually need any. Seeing them brings me back to that fiasco with the Glasses of Ultimate Smartness; I briefly—kinda, sorta, maybe—wish that I still had them on me if only for a minute, just to make a fool out of her again. She must be trying to appear smart, or look the part of a teacher. What a snob.

Apart from the glasses, neither she nor I really look like teachers. She's still wearing her martial arts gi, just as I'm still wearing mine.

Heading over to the desk, Yin literally drops the books on the desk. She faces the class and greets them with, "Good morning, everybody."

"Good morning, Miss Yin and Mister Yang," they answer back in harmony. Some say it brightly, some not so much.

"Yeah, how you guys doin'?" I say with indifference, leaning back on the chair, stretching and yawning.

Grabbing a marker in her paw, Yin writes down a slew of words on the whiteboard. She scribbles the first lesson of the day: Medical Applications of Woo Foo. It pretty much speaks for itself. The methods used by past and present Woo Foo Knights to tend their wounds and afflictions. All that good stuff.

"Welcome to week eight of the semester. It's hard to believe that so much time's already passed, but here we are," says Yin, pressing her glasses against the bridge of her nose. "For today, we'll start off by taking a look at the different ways in which Woo Foo can be used to treat injuries and illnesses. We've got a lot of ground to cover for this lesson, so I hope you're all prepared. I trust that you've gone over the reading material that you've been given last week." Already, some of the class are darting their eyes to the side, a dead giveaway. I lean against the wall next to the whiteboard and roll my eyes. Weiss is one of the very few who doesn't look nervous. Yin can tell that almost half of these kids haven't done as they were instructed, but being the sage-like authority figure she is—or rather, she's _supposed_ to be—she just lets it slide and continues. "Remember, everyone. Woo Foo is more than just a martial art."

"It's also a culture," the entire classroom adds, their monotony grinding against my head. Again, Weiss stands out amongst the class, actually showing enthusiasm when she speaks compared to her peers.

"Very good, you guys. Now back in the old days"—by that, she means more than a century ago—"before we had stuff like hospitals, clinics, x-rays, ultrasound or heck, even first aid kits, we didn't have a lot by way of closing up any nasty cuts and bruises or getting rid of the simplest flu bug. Woo Foo knights had it better than anyone else." My sister starts pacing left and right in a path between the desk and the whiteboard. It puts her in complete command of the classroom. Of the young minds seated before us. "We'd come up with all sorts of spells that helped in patching up wounds and curing sicknesses. Us Woo Foo Knights also had access to some of the finest resources, like plants, herbs and minerals, which you could get your hands on. At the time, these were the most effective and popular means of treatment."

As the lecture goes on, I observe the whole classroom, from the ceiling to the uniform rows of seats to the children seated on them. I'm honest-to-God surprised at how attentive, how cooperative, they all are, even the ones you'd expect to cause any kind of trouble. Surprised and impressed.

Even more impressive is my sister's lesson, which is going smoothly and without any hiccups whatsoever. Four months of teaching a class of twenty-odd kids, and she's doing it like a pro. Her every word conducts how the kids feel. She says a word cheerily, and they're all cheery along with her. I can definitely pick a few things up and apply them to my own teaching, which is still a bit rough around the edges. It almost makes me forget about how mad I was at her. Key word: almost. She may have moved on, but I haven't. Not that I'd let her see that.

Yin pauses in her step and her speech, letting a sigh out of her lungs. Regret glints in her eyes, in anticipation of what she's about to say. "Years and years later, the world began to change. Technology was introduced. We've had scientific breakthroughs and worldly milestones happening here and there. We've discovered flight, discovered electricity, set foot on the moon, ventured to the earth's core, we've done all that and so much more. And with every milestone that's accomplished, Woo Foo fell farther and farther behind. People began to favor technology over the means that we've introduced and stuck to. And who could blame them? Technology's fast, revolutionary and easy." As each word rolls down her tongue and out of her mouth, her cheer wanes. She rests her chin on her hand and bites her lip, not wanting to let the last set of words come out. "It's like…"

She turns to the side and pauses. That strained look on her face is familiar to me, and I wish she didn't put it up because chances are it'll find its place on my face too. I may be watching from the back of the classroom, but I still don't want it to happen.

"It's like Woo Foo just vanished," she says at last. "Like we don't even exist at all."

I take a good look at my sister and trace the solemnity in her statement and the disheartened expression on her face. She's always been the more studious between the two of us, and it was crushing for her to have found out about this. About our martial art, our culture, being lost in time, falling behind.

It'd hurt me too, and it's not because of some twin telepathy that Yin and I have. Finding out about this hurt me as well because I pride myself in my status as a Woo Foo Knight. The feats that, as a practitioner of the art, I can do that many others can't.

Great. I feel like a cornered mouse trying to not make the same face as my sister. Trying not to let our students see me cut open. I can't stand in this room for another second.

Yin rebounds from her sullenness and smiles in spite of it, facing the class again. "Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself," she says, sounding like she's recently sobered up from a hard-hitting drink. "We'll go deeper into those little tidbits when we get to them."

I jerk my face to the side and seal my eyes shut right on time so that she doesn't catch a glimpse of my futile attempt of keeping a straight face. But this guise won't keep me safe for the entire lesson.

Moving away from the wall I'm leaning on, I put my hands on my hips and make my way to the door. Yin's lecture continues as per normal, and she grips her whiteboard marker tighter.

"Now, everyone take out your pencils and notebooks. I want you to copy all of this down a—Yang, where are you going?" She catches me just as my paw curls around the handle.

"Off to get some fresh air." I look her over my shoulder.

Being my sister, she obviously sees past my excuse. She folds her arms and glowers at me. "What's the problem now?"

"I'm not putting up with another one of your sob stories, Yin. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be outside." I put my foot outside, but she stops me in before I can take another step.

"Yang!" Her voice brims with annoyance. "You are _not_ leaving me by myself. Dad told you to keep watch, so you better do as he says if you know what's good for you." Sheesh, she really _is_ such a goody two-shoes. I forgot how annoying it is and how it's landed her into trouble on many an occasion.

I roll my eyes, shake my head and turn a dull gaze to her. "Eh. The way I see it, you've got things under control here. You'll be fine. Call me when it's my turn." I head out the door and down the small staircase.

I hear Yin exclaiming angrily at me from inside. "Fine. I don't want to risk you distracting the class, anyway."

Just as she finishes, my feet plant themselves on the grassy ground. The door slides closed behind me, and I sit against the wall. Through the wooden surface, I can hear Yin's lesson continuing from where it left off, a little muffled but still clear enough for me to make sense of it. I _am_ a rabbit, after all.

"Sorry about that, you guys. Now then, where were we?" says Yin, retracing her steps. "Alright, so to start off, let's talk about the resources that were used by Woo Foo back then. Like I said before, there were plenty of plants and minerals that could be refined into medicine. On pages thirty-four and thirty-five of your textbook, you'll find a complete chart of these materials and their specific uses. Look them up in your own time, though. For now, there's one particular material that stands out which I'd like to talk a little more about: the Azure Flower. If you can just open your scrolls that say 'Woo Foo and You'."

While my sister's diatribe goes on, I ponder. The Azure Flower… The name strikes a chord in me. I recall seeing it at one point in one of Yin's notebooks. A flower with crystal clear blue petals and a gold pistil in its center, emanating an aura as radiant as its entire body. It's known for its petals being longer than its stem, the remedial qualities of its pollen and the near impossibility of seeing, let alone obtaining one of them.

Some Woo Foo scrolls tell of stories of men and women who've attempted to get their hands on this flower, often at costs that range from small to steep. From as little as a cut or a bruise to as big as a fractured limb or even their lives. It must be worth the trouble, from what I've learned. Slathering a handful of the pollen over a wound can cause it to vanish completely. Applying it to a dislocated bone can mend it perfectly. And despite its supposedly bitter taste, swallowing it can rid you of any sickness or ailment you have. And considering what this flower can do, I bet it'll fetch a respectable price in the market. I guess it's no surprise why it's as rare as it is. Why so many people seek it out, and why nine times out of ten their searches end in failure

In the schoolhouse, a new voice starts. It's Weiss. It takes a while before she speaks, though. She stammers a bit. She must be trying to come up with a question, to get it out there. Knowing her, she probably has her hand up and might keep it up. "It even gets rid of cancer?"

"Yes, Weiss," says my sister, also solemn. "It can get rid of cancer, too."

Yet another word burrows through my brain matter. Cancer.

That's why Weiss hesitated just now with her question. Her mother is diagnosed with it. _Stomach_ cancer, to be more specific. Considering the position she and her family are in, it's only natural that talking about it is a trial in and of itself. The bad news struck her two months ago. How it happened, only she knows.

Is that why she's here right now, trying to learn Woo Foo? Or is Woo Foo just an outlet for her to channel any feeling of helplessness or weakness she may have? I doubt that it's the latter because despite her nervousness and the emotions stored in her, she still hangs in there. She stays strong. Nothing sways her. It's surprising, seeing how someone as young as her can be this tough. This well-built.

Then again, I'm in no position to get involved in these matters. I do want to somehow help her, though. If only there were a way.

Before long, I realize that I've put too much thought into this. I reach into the pocket of my gi and pull out an mp3 player, painstakingly untangling the earbuds. Seriously, how the heck do wires even end up this messy? After that, I fit the things into my ear and press play, my mind soaking up the J-Pop lyrics and deciphering them.

 _Kizutsuita nukegara wo tada dakishimeteita_

I'm all alone here, holding nothing but this empty shell

 _Furisosogu ame wa shizuka na kimi no namida_

These silent tears of yours are like the pouring rain

 _Wake me up_

 _Wake me up_

 _Wake me up_

 _Kono yume kara_

Out of this dream

 _Real or dream_

 _Real or dream_

 _Real or dream_

 _Oshietekure Maria!_

Please answer, Maria…

'Jesus', by J-Pop sensation Gackt. My Japanese is a little rough around the edges. I'd gotten fascinated in learning the language from both my Woo Foo training and watching a few anime shows in my spare time very recently. But I know enough of it that I can at least deduce what this song's about. My take on it is that it's about death and the sweet release it grants. I don't know, that's what I think of it. I leave it at that and just listen.

A minute into the song, and my eyes begin to droop. Blurs emerge here and there. Even in my slumber, the song plays. Even in my slumber, I continue soaking it up.

My eyes close completely.

* * *

The time now is two o'clock in the afternoon. Everyone in the schoolhouse sits at attention as my brother stands before us with a red marker in his possession, about to start with his lecture. It's my turn now to look on and be the judge, and I do so intently from the sidelines, amidst the long shelf of books, setting a relatively low bar for him.

While he scribbles on the whiteboard, the restless panting of the children enter my ears and my brain. They had just recently come from an hour-long martial art training session, which Yang was in charge of, much to his joy, no doubt. Half an hour was spent going over through basic moves and techniques, and the other half-hour was for sparring.

Some of them are downright exhausted, their brow soaked to the bone with perspiration. Yang and I took every measure possible to ensure their safety, providing them with gloves, vests, foot guards, shin guards and other protective gear. But despite our best efforts a few of them still managed to sustain bruises that are either light or harsh. When you're teaching kids a martial art, especially one that's saved the world on more than one occasion, it only makes sense that a number of them will get a little too eager for their own good. It doesn't make it any less overbearing at times, but I guess their enthusiasm for it makes it worthwhile to watch.

Letting my reverie end there, I turn back to the whiteboard, which has _Woo Foo Weaponry, Inside and Out_ written in red ink and large letters so that everyone can see. Yang takes a step back and touches his chin, thinking, which will make it the first time in so long that he's done that. No, that's just me being an obligatory nuisance to him, as always. 'Poking fun at him', in other words. He doesn't really take my choice of words all too well, though. I wonder if he's still mad at me. It's likely. Maybe _I_ should consider what I say for once.

The lesson begins with Yang speaking to the class, enunciating every word.

"Alright, you guys. Why don't we pick up from where we left off, shall we? Last week, we covered pretty much every tool in a Woo Foo Knight's arsenal and the moments where they're most useful."

As he says this, he unfurls a particularly large scroll and hangs it by a hook above the whiteboard. The scroll charts a list of weapons used in Woo Foo, from the bamboo sword to the collapsible boomerang to the quarterstaff all the way to the stylish yet impractical naginata. I don't know what to be more impressed by: the fact that Yang made this list himself from a huge blank scroll to the fact that he's more prepared than I expected him to be.

"And like I said in our last class, once you become Grade One Knights, you'll get a chance to use these weapons yourself without any supervision from either of us," says Yang, gazing at the chart. After about a minute, I'd say, he furls the scroll back up, writing a few more words on the whiteboard. "Moving on, now. Let's talk about the more interesting stuff, starting with the Twelve Woo Foo Crystals. Anyone here remember them at all? Anyone?"

At this question, most of the class dart their eyes away in discomfort. I can count the number of kids who've done the work that's asked of them on one hand, the most obvious one being Weiss. And as such, they don't appear nervous in the slightest.

Like the black sheep of a family, or the runt of the litter, she's always stood out from the rest of her peers. She's usually the first to answer any question either I or Yang raise, the first to volunteer to go in front of the class to write something on the whiteboard, the first to demonstrate what she's learned during training. It's moments like these that make me wish that everyone here had the same enthusiasm. They make me wish that people across this world were less ashamed of actually having and using a brain.

My brother rubs his forehead and groans. " _Oy vey_ … Well, this sucks," he says, not beating around the bush with his disappointment. That's an understatement if I ever heard one. "Come on, you guys. I give you enough time to do training and sparring. I even let you use stuff that kids your age wouldn't be caught dead with. The least you could do is give a little something back. Is it really _that_ hard to do some reading for half an hour?" He pauses, sits on the desk and breathes in and out two times before closing his eyes. Probably realizing how much he sounds like Master Yo, or Dad. He's been told these words so many times that they're coming out of his own mouth.

Like master, like student. Like father, like son.

I initially make note to myself that this is such hypocrisy on his part, but relinquish the thought immediately. My brother takes Woo Foo as seriously as I do, but isn't one to show it, and this is one of those rare instances in which he does. If his calling these kids out on their laziness really is sincere, then it means two things.

One, the apples don't fall far from the tree as far as our 'family' is concerned.

Two, I have yet another reason to regret our quarrel the other week.

The kids turn their heads from the side to floor beneath them, glum looks on their faces. Yang, opening his eyes, gets off the desk and folds his arms. "Okay, let's try this again," he says, somewhat deflated. "Can anyone here at least _try_ to tell me what the Twelve Crystals are?" He allows about ten to fifteen seconds to pass and, with a defeated sigh, finally points a finger to Weiss, who's had her arm raised for half of the time. "Weiss?"

"They're um," says Weiss with hesitation, carefully deliberating on her response. "They're Fire, Water, Lightning, Ice, Wind, Earth, Nature, Time, Space, Life, Darkness and uh"—she scratches her head to force out that one last word—"Light. Correct?"

"More or less, yeah." Nodding his head, Yang sets up another large scroll on the whiteboard, which shows the fabled crystals and a brief description for each one. After unveiling it, he paces left and right before the class. Like a preacher speaking a sermon to a church congregation, he has everyone—and dare I say it, even me—under his command. We're basically eating out of the palm of his hand. "As we've covered the other week, the Twelve Crystals are a creation of the Mediator, one of the two Original Knights of Woo Foo and the one who introduced the mystic side of the art. Each one of these Crystals is infused with her powerful magic, and as such strengthens the magic of the wielder. However"—he stops in his tracks and lifts a finger to stress his case—"there's a lot of risk in using a Crystal. They're powerful, yes, but using them requires a clear frame of mind and plenty of Woo Foo energy. It takes so much out of you that even the most accomplished Woo Foo Masters are left very tired at the end. At best, that's what happens. Worst case scenario…" He halts the sentence there in hopes of finding a way to finish it.

The suspense brings the kids to the edge of their seats. Again, I too am anticipating what he's going to say next, gripping the bookshelf I'm sitting on firmly.

And to think that I'd set that bar a little too low for him; he _does_ get miffed at being reminded of what's expected of him, particularly by me and our father. But expectations aside, I have to say that he's doing a really good job so far. It makes me wonder what that feeling must be like for him. I get it as much as he does, but I'd love to know what his take on it is.

"What? 'Worst case scenario', what?" demands a pupil from the back row: a young duck girl.

"To tell you the truth, I've got no idea what happens then." Yang shrugs and nudges his head to the side. As soon as the kids hear that, they groan in harmony out of annoyance. "I'm positive that it's nothing good. So with that said, just be glad that you kids won't ever have to come across one of them, let alone use them."

While my brother rolls the scroll back up and puts it down on the desk, I consider his lecture a little more closely. The Twelve Woo Foo Crystals. Tremendous power, fitted into a stone the size of a fist. Having one of these in your possession, to command the elements of this world at a whim, effectively makes you a god, or at least the closest equivalent of a god.

It's almost a dream come true, except for the risks behind actually using one of them.

"Now, then," says Yang, scribbling some more words on the whiteboard. They're Japanese words instead of the usual English ones. Kanji letters, which in turn are borrowed from Chinese. Not that anyone here would know that apart from me and my brother, being the teachers and whatnot. The slick, squeaking sound of the marker against the smooth white surface matches the complex writings very well. Under the almost artistic text is the English reading, or the Romaji form, and a very rough translation of each word. _Kami no Gofu_ is the English written in between the parentheses. "On to something new. For the, let's see"—he gives a passing glance to the clock above the whiteboard—"let's see, twenty-five minutes that we have left, we're going to talk about the Talismans of Woo Foo Elders. Pay attention to the Japanese letters that are on the board. The first word here is _kami_ , which means 'god', and the second one is _gofu_ , meaning 'talisman'. Yes, Weiss?"

That's the second time today that Weiss has her hand raised. "And the _no_ in the middle is sorta like 'of' or says that something belongs _to_ something or _someone_ , right?" she asks, her confidence building with every word said. If I had known any better, I'd say that Woo Foo must be part of her family long before she joined this Academy. Come to think of it…

No, it's not important.

"Exactly," says Yang, snappily nodding his head.

Once again, his lesson is so captivating that I can't help but ponder on it deeper as it continues on. I've heard about these Talismans of Woo Foo Elders, or the _Kami no Gofu_ , They're similar to the Crystals that were talked about a while ago in many ways, but distinct enough in a few others. Their power is far beyond what people typically think of Woo Foo, and they demand a stable foundation and a pure consciousness to wield in battle.

While the Crystals were the Mediator's creation, the Talismans were the creation of the Governor, the other Original Knight, the one in the crimson armor, and the originator of Woo Foo's Might discipline. Something about this strikes me as suspicious. Twelve stones of Magic, Twelve tools of Might, each one corresponding to an element. There's no way that that's a coincidence. Maybe it has something to do with the principle of balance that Woo Foo is built on. _When Might and Magic work as one, a villain's plan can be undone_. That's how it's always been, and these treasures are one of many things that prove it.

Despite their power and reputation, these treasures were designed to be the last lines of defense should all else fail. Using them as a means to bring harm to others is a perversion of the highest degree. Even with these things considered, one just has to question why such dangerous things are entrusted to the world.

I snap from my admittedly long and drawn-out trance around the same time Yang wraps his lesson up. "Okay, you guys. That about wraps it up for this week. Don't forget, you've got your exams coming up at the end of the semester, which is around three weeks away from now. So I expect you all to hit those books and scrolls before then, preferably as early as you can." That's right. There's an examination scheduled at the end of this study session. It'll determine who makes it up to the next rank and who doesn't.

Three o'clock now, and that's pretty much the end of the day. Everyone's scrambling to their feet and dumping their supplies into their bags. Well, not really 'dumping', per se, but they're all hurrying to get out of here. As soon as the schoolhouse clears out, the only one left now is Weiss patiently packing her things as opposed to her overeager classmates. She pulls out a pile of papers out of her bag and approaches the teacher's desk.

The distance between her and Yang closes, and she hands the papers over to him. "Here's the presentation I was supposed to give last week, Mister Yang."

Yang, seating behind the desk, accepts the overdue assignment and sets it down neatly to the side. "Thanks, Weiss," he says, but his expression is terse. It means that he has something else he wants to say. The way it changes around, though, means that the words hanging from his tongue may have also changed. "Hey, is something wrong?"

"Nah, it's nothing," says Weiss, darting her eyes to the side. It's a convenient, harmless lie, the kind that people use to get by in their everyday lives.

Unfortunately for her, Yang and I are pretty good judges of character. That, and her body language is such a dead giveaway. "Well, by the look on your face, it certainly doesn't seem like 'nothing'," says my brother, dropping his pen and leaning forward. His features lighten. "You sure you don't want to tell me?"

"Yeah, I'm good." Another lie. You think she'd pick up on the situation and adapt to it.

"Okay, I get it." Letting out a deep breath, Yang heads over to the doorway, where he leans on its very frame. He folds his arms and lifts his head up. "How's your mom holding up these days?" he starts casually, but not quite sounding insensitive. In fact, it's very understanding. Sympathetic.

I move a little closer to them, about one row of desk's worth of space away, my sensibilities piqued.

"Oh, well," says Weiss, going along with his attempt at conversation. "Mom's um…well, Mom, I guess." Her voice is soft and delicate, as are the steps she takes towards the door. "She's doing fine, and so are my big brother and Nana, thanks for asking." By the way she speaks, this must be a hard topic for her to talk about.

Lowering himself to her height, Yang shines a gentle smile at her. First he holds her by the shoulder to comfort her, and then lifts her head up by the chin with two of his fingers. It seems to uplift her spirits, if only by a little. The words he then says immediately after cause my heart to hum like a bell or a wind chime.

"This isn't exactly like me, but I'll give it a shot anyway," says Yang, his words, his presence, giving out a warmth, inviting and calm. "If you can, always try to keep your chin up. You're going to make it through this, I know it. And if you ever feel the need to get something out of your chest, you know I'm all ears"—Yang catches himself and shoots a glance at his ears, chuckling at how lame the remark must have sounded—"Y'know, figuratively speaking. I'm not always like this, but I hope that you can come to me if you need to. I don't want my star pupil looking all glum. You've got an example to set for everyone. Okay?"

Weiss cracks a smile slowly as she registers my brother's words. "Got it," she says, nodding. "I'll do my best not to keep stuff bottled up."

"That's the spirit," says Yang, giving her an affectionate rub of her head. "It's not healthy for a kid like you, after all."

Yang chuckles one more time and then watches Weiss leave the dojo. I too flash a smile and let a chuckle pass out of my mouth.

My brother. My older, often aloof twin actually showing that he cares about someone. Actually unafraid to let his emotions show. It's not every day I get to see it, but when I do, my insides go aflutter. I like this Yang a lot more than his typical aggressive self, and wish I could see it more often.

Then again, a wish like that doesn't always turn out too well.

He returns to the desk to pack his things up. I approach him as he takes the last of his scrolls into his grasp, genuinely impressed by his display today. By his lesson, by his consoling of Weiss, by everything.

"That was amazing, bro," I say, preserving my smile.

Done with his packing, Yang shoots me that cold stare again, which marks the departure of his compassion. Adjusting his things so that they don't fall, he looks at the door before heading towards it without even acknowledging my compliment. He does notice me, somewhat, when he tells me, "Whatever," but the answer, like his stare, is cold. He leaves the schoolhouse, leaving the door opened wide, leaving me drained physically, emotionally and spiritually.

With an answer like that, it's hard not to be. I mean how could I not?

I've probably been hit in the face with a pie. Maybe I've been struck by a truck, or a train. I break out of my daze and remember that my brother has just ignored my sincere praise. Neither the pie nor the truck or train would hurt worse than what actually happened just now.

I close the door behind me as I leave and follow Yang back to the dojo, who's walking at a growingly faster pace. Something must be on his mind if he's in such a hurry, but it doesn't excuse him. I reach the end of his trail and, in turn, the dojo.

I arrive at the kitchen, where a half-full backpack lies on the counter. I hear rattling coming from the refrigerator. Behind the door are a pair of ears on top and feet on the bottom. Moving back and forth between the fridge and the bag is Yang, gathering all the food he can and cramming them in such a small space.

"Hey!" I shout, paying no mind to his intent, focusing only on the rudeness he's given me.

"What?" says Yang, and there it is again. I'm really getting tired of this…

"Don't give me that, Yang. Just don't," I say, closing the fridge door before him and leaning against it with folded arms. "What the hell was that just now? I was saying something nice to you." Something nice and _not sarcastic_. "And that's what I get in return?" I would have let it slide if he just left without saying a word, but now I can't let it slide. I let my anger simmer down a little so that I can bring the issue out of my mind. "You're not still mad at me for last week, are you?"

"What makes you think that I am?" says my brother as he nudges me to the side and reopens the fridge. He closes the door and moves over to the living room. He only glances at me once, and then he goes back to packing up some more of his stuff.

"Well, for one, you could at least stop and look at me for more than two seconds while I'm talking to you." I grab him by his wrist and make him drop his handheld video game console by accident. I barely catch it with my magic before it can plummet to the floor and break into a million pieces, and then set it down on the coffee table. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry for last week and getting on your nerves. That good enough for you?" I'm too desperate to get a proper conversation with him that I don't even pay attention to the sincerity in my apology.

Truth be told, I don't want to be angry with him just as I don't want him to be angry with me. We give each other enough reasons to do so. We give each other piles of ammunition that'll keep an army of soldiers satisfied. That much, I will admit. But I really hate the feeling of it. It's exhausting. It's demanding.

Just by looking at the dullness of my brother's eyes, I know that he sees it this way, too. "I get it. You're sorry. Water under the bridge. Now please, just let go of me," he says.

I reluctantly unbind his hands and take this all in. His hastiness, the backpack lying on the table and the contents inside of it.

"Okay, what _is_ all this, anyway?" I say, tailing him from behind.

"Why the hell do you care?" He rolls his eyes at me and puts his cell phone and handheld console into the bag's outer pocket. That thing must be loaded with enough food to last him days.

Just when I thought he's done, he takes a few shirts and pants and stuffs it into the backpack. It looks like it's about to explode at any minute now, but miraculously it doesn't.

Looking at the clothes just now has me riddled with fear. Is he… No, he can't be. He wouldn't. He can't be _this_ mad at me. Would he?

"Yang," I whisper, my skin and fur crawling with doubt. "Are you…"

"Relax, will ya?" says Yang, sighing his annoyance out. Pinpointing my question before I could get a chance to ask it. "I'm only going to be away for a couple of days. I dunno when I'm gonna be back, but I'm gonna be back."

"So you're…" The very idea of him leaving home is distressing me to end, even after he's confirmed that he isn't.

"I'm not mad, if that's what you're thinking." His tone goes soft as he picks his bag up and heads for the stairs.

"Then why do you have to leave?"

"Let's just say that there's something I need to look for."

"And what would this something you need to look for be?"

Yang, irritated yet again, shrugs and rolls his eyes for a second time. "Geez, do you really have to know _everything_? I knew you were a lot of things, sis, but I didn't take you to be clingy."

How dare he? I am not—I repeat, _not_ —clingy. Am I…?

The conversation has gotten loud enough that it wakes our teacher and father up from his nap. I hear his footsteps from the staircase, getting louder as he continues his descent.

As he walks into the living room, he joins in. "What's going on _now_ , you two?"

Solemnity rears its head as my brother and I go silent from witnessing his presence. The air thickens when he closes in on us.

Ever since we found out that good old Master Yo is really our father, we've been treating him much differently. That is, with considerably more respect than we used to, although neither me nor Yang haven't gotten the hang of calling him 'dad' or 'daddy' or 'father' quite yet. We still poke fun at him from time to time, namely his old age, but we see him in a whole new light now.

And as such, when he gets mad, it's scary. I mean, sure it was always scary, but now whenever he's angry, frustrated or upset, the earth beneath us just quakes.

Yang breaks the silence with a sigh, sways his face to the side and speaks. "I need to go out for a while, Master Yo. Erm, I mean, 'Dad'. And I just told Yin this, but no, I'm not moving out."

Dad folds his arms and stares down at Yang, his presence overwhelming. "I heard you were going to look for something. What is it, some Woo Foo treasure that might not be locked up in the Armory downstairs?"

"No," says Yang flatly, bluntly, looking our father in the eye. Somewhat. "It's a little hard to say."

"Just tell us, already. How hard can it be?" I add impatiently. At first I'm concerned that I might have put my brother in an uncomfortable position, like I did last week, and immediately regret doing that.

Taking a moment to breathe, Yang folds his arms and deliberates for a few seconds. He faces me and then Dad, his snout crinkling, telling me that this might indeed be hard for him to say.

"It's a 'someone' that I'm going to look for," he says reluctantly.

"Who?" Dad asks.

"A wolf person. Call me crazy, but I've been seeing him lately." Yang shrugs. "In my dreams, of course."

Now that I think about it, I did see him tossing and turning about in his sleep at one point the other week. And that wasn't the first time; the nights after that were the same thing. He'd babble all kinds of nonsense while he slept, and I'd come in to wake him up. I thought he was just being the nuisance he loved to be towards me, but it looks like it's so much more than that. It makes more sense now.

Too much sense.

With Yang's piece said, Dad lets out a gasp. His mouth is agape, and so are his eyes. His stare is one blank void, where everything enters and nothing comes out of it. Either that, or he has some deep, dark secret that he's buried a long time ago. Something that he's far too ashamed of and hoped would up and vanish from his memory as time passed by.

That might be just me. People like to call me and Yang perceptive. According to them, our judge of character is beyond sound. But to be honest, we're only pointing out the obvious. And this speculation of mine is one big wild guess.

"Did you say a 'wolf'?" asks Yo, his words barely slipping out of him.

"Yeah. What's wrong?" asks Yang, flashing a squint at our father. "Why are you pale, all of a sudden? Well, 'paler'?"

Dad rattles his head in an attempt to not lose face. "I'm only curious, is all. As a dad, your well-being's now become my number-one priority." He sits on his good chair, crosses one leg over another and perches his head on his clasped hands. "What did you see in your dreams, Yang? This person, um…did he tell you anything?" The unease in which he speaks fuels my suspicion.

My brother sits on the sofa next to the chair, but doesn't say anything in return. All he does is shake his head slowly, softening his face a smidgeon.

Exhaling, Dad slaps his legs with his palms and stands up. He shoots a hard stare at Yang before lightening his features. "Let me ask a different question, then. Why are you doing this?"

Yang hesitates for a second or two, and the air cannot possibly get any thicker than this. It almost feels like a mist during the winter season. "I can feel it in my gut, in my chest, in my…well, everything, actually," he says, his tone solemn. Vibrating my soul. "It's telling me that finding this wolf guy is really important. I don't really know how or why, but it just is. In a way, it's kind of personal." _Aha! I knew it, I just knew it_ , the immature brat dwelling in me spits, but I shut her up a second later. "I know it's selfish, but I have to do this. And whatever choices I make, I don't regret them. I'll take the consequences if there are any." He stops at this sentence to avert his eyes to me. He smiles at me in a confidence-restoring manner and puts his hand above one of mine. "I'm going to be okay. I may only be twelve years old, but I'm as tough as nails as they come. You _did_ teach me, after all." He looks at our dad, whom that last sentence is directed to. At the Woo Foo Master who has trained us from the day we set foot in this place. "What do you say, master? _Sensei_? _Sifu_? Dad? Can I go?"

The whole living room goes still. Dad folds his arms, closes his eyes and lowers his head, thinking this through thoroughly. Crinkles rise on his complexion, which I find a bit disconcerting. Each time his face contorts, I feel an impulsive need to try and get into his head. I wonder if there's a Woo Foo spell that lets us do this. There must be, but I can imagine how hard a spell like that has to be.

Then something happens that astonishes me. He opens his eyes at Yang, and his expression goes from one of sternness and discipline to one of compassion and understanding. Lightly he puts his hands on my twin brother's shoulders and crouches down to his height.

"Alright. You can go, my son," says Dad in a warm voice that matches his features. A voice that I don't think I've heard him talk in. Or if he has, it's a rare occurrence.

Baffled, I turn away from them and repress my shock. It ends up failing on me, since I just sigh, anyway. I didn't think that our master, our father, would greenlight such an idea. I didn't think that he'd have this much confidence in Yang, of all people. That confidence has got to be very strong, because I too am putting my faith in him. In his bold claims.

Later that afternoon, Yang finishes with the rest of his packing while Dad and I wait in the living room for him to come down the stairs. I could have broached these nagging feelings in me to my father, but stop myself at the last second.

From the stairs, I can hear Yang making his way down, his backpack in tow. Slung over his left shoulder is another bag hanging over a stick—or a bindle, as it's called—containing some more of his belongings.

"I'm all set," says Yang, approaching the _shoji_ —the sliding doors.

Dad and I see him out, a sudden burst of sunlight greeting us on the way out. The three of us spare a moment to watch the sunset, which never fails to take my breath away. After that, Yang turns around and gives his usual smile of confidence.

"That looks a little too heavy for you. Did you pack the essentials like I told you?" Dad asks, weighing the bindle with one hand.

"Yeah, Dad. I did," he says, chuckling. His poise not lacking in deference. "Thanks for letting me do this."

"Just make sure that you stick to your word. And always remember what you've been taught, right down to the very basics," advises my father, rubbing Yang's head and leaving his head and ears a ruffled clump.

"I will." Yang nods, giving Dad a short yet nice hug.

He shifts his attention to me, still smiling. I tilt my head to the ground, unable to bear seeing my brother just leave. Knowing full well that he's going to leave for an undetermined period of time and wishing that he'd get it over with.

Without any sort of warning, I leap straight at him and give him the biggest hug I've ever given anyone. Behind my eyes, teardrops try in vein to cascade down my face. At first I succeed in keeping them at bay, but one eventually escapes, and I let the rest out.

"Please stay safe, bro," I say softly into his ear in a half-sob, my face warm from crying.

I'm used to being away from my brother for an hour or so, but for more than one day? No, I'm not. He and I may as well be Siamese twins, for all we know. For all the times the two of us get on the other's nerves, nothing's going to change what we have. Nothing, _no one_ , is going to replace him.

"Whoa, whoa. Sis, come on," my brother whispers back, embarrassed. "Not out here. People could be watching us." He might care about it, but I certainly don't.

Finally, I let go and wipe my eyes free of tears. I try to maintain my own smile, but it's proving to be harder than it should be.

"You better give us a call at least once a day," I remind him.

"Yeah, yeah."

"We mean it, Yang," Dad joins.

"I will, alright? See ya." With that, Yang turns tail and takes his exit.

My master-father and I watch as he leaves the dojo grounds. Every one of his step is straight. Focused. Dedicated. Not missing a beat. Just when I thought that he wouldn't give us one last glance before taking that final step, he does – a reminder that he's going to miss us.

I feel the wind shifting as Yang eventually disappears from our line of sight. I turn to Dad, whose face just spells w-o-r-r-y. At that instant, my mask falls away. Under his breath, I hear him utter in a dreadful tone.

"I hope he's going to be okay…"


	8. Voices from the Pit

_**Calamity Hoppers ~Reprise~**_

 **by Christopher R. Martin**

Chapter 8 – Voices from Inside the Pit

* * *

I feel a twinge coming from every part of my body, which is covered in scars from head to toe. Faint traces of blood seep from them, forcing me to breathe faster than I normally would. The more I move, the more my already-diminished strength fails me. Blurs begin to surround my vision, and breathing becomes a trial in and of itself.

But I can't stop. I mustn't stop. I have to keep going. Never have I been in such dire straits. Never have I been this desperate. I only hope I can reach civilization again and rest up, regain the strength that I've lost, but it seems that I might be asking too much.

"Damn it," I say, struggling for air as a rough sting flows from a wound in my calf.

My head feels so heavy, like it's not even a part of me. Visions start to play out in my mind, and I see them… A pair of rabbits—pink and blue—dressed in the same martial arts uniform. They are holding their ground defiantly against their opposition: me. We assume our respective stances, they race straight for me, and I brace for their attack.

Voices scream in sequence, slicing the air like butter.

" _Yin-cinerate!"_

" _Paws of Pain!"_

" _Yuck-icane!"_

 _It was a fierce battle, one that saw plenty of physical and verbal exchanges. Punches, kicks, spells and quips were thrown around like no one's business. This was the sort of battle that might have come out of a fairy tale or a war documentary or an action movie._

 _Our confrontation raged on. As always, Yin and Yang were on the side of good, and I the opposite. The side of the wicked, the side of evil. To which side would the scales of justice tip?_

 _The three of us gave everything we had for this fight. If I could put that effort into actual statistics, I'd say we'd put in one hundred and fifty percent that time. Attack after vigorous attack clashed with all the ferocity we could assert. It almost seemed to us that everything was on the line, and it might as well have been. Granted, this was how our encounters looked to me, but since we were so determined to settle the score for good, the stakes have really been raised._

 _One of my attacks—a green energy-infused spear lunge—missed its mark, giving the twins ample time to retaliate._

 _Then suddenly, there was a violent explosion. It blanketed everything in a blend of smoke and dust. My body was hurting. It then grew numb. Before I knew it, I was on the ground, flat on my back. I couldn't tell what caused the blast until after the clouds dissipated. As my muscles and bones gave out from the pain that coursed across them, I saw Yin and Yang standing triumphantly side by side, in the very center of their joined Woo Foo Aura. It was a different color than when I last saw it – a shining turquoise with a glossy finish compared to the usual mere combination of pink and blue energy._

 _They were smiling. They were stronger. Far stronger than before. It was then that reality struck me hard. Like the total bitch it was._

 _I lost. For the who's-been-keeping-track-of-by-this-point time. To think that I was better. That I was invulnerable. To think that I surpassed those two morons. Hmph! I was dead wrong. And God, did it suck…_

 _The cuts, bruises and lacerations from the battle throbbed, blood spilling slowly out of almost all of them. My vision grew dark, and soon the twin Woo Foo rabbits were nowhere in sight. I fell unconscious. To make matters worse, this fight took place on the outskirts of the town. No one would be there to notice me._

 _I was by myself._

Two weeks have passed since that day. It's amazing that I haven't died yet. Even more amazing, still, is the realization that dawned on me in that battle. Yin and Yang have come so far, and I'm still stuck in this stupid, same old stage. I swore to myself to defeat them. No, to kill them. Obliterate. Extinguish. Annihilate. Decimate.

But with the way I am now, how can I hope to accomplish that? How can I even hope to last another day more?

I shake the daze from my head and return my focus on the path before me. I've got to be wandering around for hours now. This is such crap. I'm like a fish. I'm flopping about. I'm floundering. Sooner or later, I'll be breathing my last. An unceremonious way to kick the bucket.

My struggles lead me to a part of this place that's emptier than the last. This is where the Night Master's lair once stood. That much I know. It looks the same. Almost.

Except for one thing. In front of me is something completely out of the ordinary. Taking the place of the once great and mighty fortress is a massive and seemingly bottomless hole. What appear to be shards of glass lie right next to it. I don't remember seeing this before. Is this new?

A jolt surges in my mind as I come to realize what this hole is. I knew I heard it from somewhere. Looks like I'm in luck.

"So this is…hm, I see," I remark, amused in spite of my worsening injuries.

According to Woo Foo tales of old, there was a place—a vast, empty void, if you will—that was reserved for the foulest of the foul. It was in that place where Woo Foo Knights banished their most dreaded of enemies upon defeating them. Urban myths have a different interpretation: instead of a multitude of creatures, there is only one most powerful and dangerous inside of it.

That place is called the Pit, and I am looking at it. Only a handful of people know of its true nature and unfortunately, I am not one of them. I wonder if the Night Master set up his base of operations at this specific spot for that very reason. It most likely might have been just a coincidence, though, because I don't think he's ever spoken of it in the times that he and I worked together.

If the stories about the Pit are anything to go by, then it must be brimming with powerful Woo Foo energy, too. Which means I found what I'm looking for. I think.

How deep _is_ this thing, anyway?

This hole must go on forever. As far as _I_ can tell, anyway. Only an utter idiot, one whose better judgment has been smashed to pieces, would even think about going down there. Just to be certain, I reach my hand down the depths to get some sort of idea for myself. To gauge how far it could possibly go. When I pull my hand back, it's cold and clammy. I look over the rim of the hole. A faint light is glowing down below, wanting to shine brighter but cannot. There's breathing and hissing in these depths, echoing. It's enough to make anyone turn tail and run away screaming. It's a fool's errand to go down there, indeed.

And it turns out that I'm quite the fool.

I bring one foot down into the darkness, careful not to agitate my injuries. The other foot follows, and then the rest of my body. The noises continue, and I can feel that chilling air running up my tiny frame, from my legs up to my head. As if I'm going to let some ugly freak of nature scare the hell out of me. If someone dares to give it a try, then I'll gladly show them the most terrifying monster they've ever seen.

Before I actually start climbing down, I spare one more look at the surface above. I might not make it back, but really, what else have I got to lose? Is there anything that those asshole rabbits haven't taken from me already?

"Ah, what the hell?" I remark, feeling reckless as always, amidst the encroaching pitch black.

The lower I go, the thicker the darkness becomes. And strangely enough, the chill I felt a while ago has vanished and is replaced by an enticing warmth. I guess it isn't that strange considering that the light is growing bigger as I grow closer to it. At the same time, the noises get louder. The next thing I know, I hear an echoing voice beginning to speak.

"Trespasser!" It's a woman. The way she spoke just now is akin to a ghost, or a phantom, or even a goddess. It brims with power. It makes me tremble.

My grip slips from the wall I'm climbing on, and I plummet fast. I seal my eyes shut and clench my fists, anticipating the impact of splatting on a flat of ground. Expecting the swiftness of my demise. I feel so light. Currents of wind blow in my long rabbit ears. The fur on my person stands from the rushing, sweeping motion of falling down. It's almost like I'm flying, yet I'm not. It's like having the breeze of a sunny afternoon blowing at my face, even though the sun is nowhere in sight.

It's peaceful, in an odd way. It's calming. If only my impending death were as graceful, as dignified, as this.

Gradually, the whistling gusts quiet. I'm getting heavier by the second. I open my eyes once more and find that I haven't hit any sort of surface. Instead, I am afloat. The light that I saw from above is now at its strongest. I can't keep my eyes fully open without shielding them with my hand.

And then, a new voice enters. "You infringe upon these sanctified grounds. How dare you?" This one is a male voice. Like its female counterpart, there's something otherworldly about the way it speaks. Lt's like a god. Except while she comes off as benign, he comes off as just plain angry. "Do you not value your life, little one?"

"Wha…?" I'm too stunned to even complete the word. I try to convince myself that I'm only hearing things. That these voices aren't real.

The voices continue; I'm not hallucinating. They're as real as the word allows.

"Your very presence has profaned this sacred resting place of ours, child."

"Resting place?" I parrot dumbly.

"There is but one punishment appropriate for violating our sleep."

"Punish?" Again, I mirror.

"But we will not," says the female voice. "Though we may not be visible to you nor can we see you, your intentions are visible to us. That which your heart wishes for is not as easily veiled as you might had hoped, Yuck."

The mention of my name makes me gasp. How in the hell do they know that? How do they know me?

"You wish to be restored to health. You seek retribution. You seek a power higher than yours. And in your search for these things, you have arrived here," the male voice adds, like he's reading off a checklist. I still don't know how they could possibly know all this.

"This is not a place for mortals such as yourself. It is simply too dangerous. Yes, power abounds here, but in acquiring it, you will forfeit your sanity."

"Did you really think that entering the Pit is that simple an affair? Did you honestly believe that there is no price to be paid for your ill-received gains? Foolish child."

Their warning enters my ear and exits through the other just as quickly. It has no bearing on me. I mean, what's a little sanity for a lot of power? It's a fair deal, if you ask me.

With this in mind, I hold my ground and give these voices my response. "Whether or not I'm crazy for going down here isn't up to you. I'm going to get me a piece of this power, and nothing is going to keep me from getting what I want, especially not you two losers."

A large sigh echoes in this blank space. Make that two sighs, actually, which ring at the same time. "Very well. It would appear that you cannot be persuaded. You are beyond being convinced. Since you so wish it, you will be given a fragment of the strength that can be found only in the Pit…" says the male voice.

"And with it, you will come to know what it means to lose yourself completely in favor of power alone. You will understand the gravity behind your deed." For several seconds, there is a small break of silence. The male and female presences are nowhere to be heard…

…until they make one loud final statement. "This shall be your punishment, Yuck!"

The resplendent wave in this place magnifies as the two voices speak, catching me off-guard. It grows and grows until it has replaced everything. It engulfs me. A new, foreign sensation flows in my body. It's scary.

It's getting harder to think. Harder to move. Harder to see. Harder to breathe.

I can't move.

I can't see.

I can't breathe…

There's nothing I can do except scream. Scream to take the impending pain away, to lessen it. In some aimless attempt to get someone to notice me.

What's happening to me…?

* * *

 _Ungh…_

I feel weird. I don't think I've ever felt anything like this before. So fluid, so loose. Like everything passes through me.

I force my head off of the ground, groaning in effort. My eyes open to meet with a sunny, blue afternoon sky. The rest of my body lays flat and uneven on the ground. I try to move my arms a little, except for one thing: I don't have any arms. Not anymore. Taking their place are two streams of goo that drip to the ground. I give my legs, or at least what I think are my legs, a try to see how they fare. Same thing. One continuous flow of green ooze has replaced them, residue seeping from it ceaselessly.

Is this ectoplasm? Am I dead? No, it can't be. If I _were_ dead, I wouldn't be here.

My entire self, transformed. Nothing more but a mass of fluids. I bring what's left of my arms up to my face and inspect it as best as my gooey stature can allow me. It's the only part of me that hasn't been affected.

So this is my punishment. This is the cost for my stubbornness. Damn it all to hell… This can't be happening. This _isn't_ happening! Why did this have to happen? Did it have to be like this? Is this really what I was bound to end up as? Am I just so worthless that I don't deserve to have an actual body?

Maybe I should be thankful. It could be worse. My form may be much worse now, but all my bodily functions remain intact. I can still perform the things that I normally could in my other body. I can breathe. I can think. I can see. Smell. Hear. Taste. I can feel. But still, if I had to choose between this and death, then I'd pick death in a heartbeat.

I guess it's a little too late for that. I made this decision, and I have no choice but to bear it. Make something out of it.

So what do I do? How do I even pick things up with this new body of mine?

And then it happens. The gooey protrusions that are supposed to be my arms start to take shape and harden. They form into two sword-shaped figures that are as sharp as a regular sword. Seeing as they're attached to me, I swing them around, the air around me slicing with every stroke and slash.

Following that little demonstration, the pair of swords shift into two cannons. Through the force of my will, they simultaneously shoot their rounds, warhead-shaped shells flying at high speeds. Large explosions are set off at the point of impact, and I fire three more rounds, then five more, potentially setting off a fire somewhere. As I marvel at the destruction, any trace of misgivings that I had not a moment ago up and disappear. Amazement takes their place. The elation turns into determination.

Determination becomes bloodlust.

And my fanged grin mirrors that bloodlust perfectly.

So this is the power of the Pit. This might not be that bad. In fact…

" _This_ is supposed to be my punishment?" I ask myself, finding the very idea funny.

If it _is_ my punishment, then what was all that bitching and moaning for just now? If this is but a taste of what the Pit has to offer, then I'm looking forward to finding out more. Test the waters, if you know what I mean.

This is what I was missing since the beginning. What I need, what I'd been looking for. And it's mine now. With this, I can finally settle the score with that goody two-shoes bitch and her numbskull of a twin brother. I can put them out of their misery. Retribution will be mine. The town won't be the same again.

 _Just you wait, Yin and Yang. You haven't seen anything yet._ I hurry to the direction of the town with renewed strength. A renewed perspective. Chuckling to myself along the way.


	9. Not alone anymore

**_Calamity Hoppers ~Reprise~_**

 **by Christopher R. Martin**

Chapter 9 - Not alone...anymore  


* * *

I push my way past branch after branch, bush after bush, skirting through the trees that take up most of my line of sight. My trusted sword finds its mark and cuts down particularly large patches of verdure. My other hand maintains a constantly burning sphere of Woo Foo energy in case magic is necessary.

I've been wandering around the whole afternoon in hopes of finding someplace where I can rest. This forest might be a little too large for me to navigate through, but I don't mind. I have no regrets about coming here. It's quiet here. So tranquil. So serene. A decent distance away from civilization, too. Wildlife teems in this place, making their noises and coming together as one. Disjointed yet harmonious, lively all the same. There appears to be neither rhyme nor reason for this, not that they're needed. It's just there. Hence the name the townspeople gave these woods, the _Vivace Forest_.

And since this place is so peaceful, I might consider calling it a day here. If I can find a good spot, that is.

My feet push forward, refusing to stop even for a second. I keep my eyes trained on the path and stay vigilant. So close, yet so far away.

Then I hear it. Water trickling down from afar, crashing gently. My ears ramrod, flickering in impulsive excitement as they register the sound. It's coming east of where I'm standing.

Curiously and cautiously, I follow the sound to its source. On this path, the trees decrease in number as I take one step after another. At the tail end of the trail is a bank of mist that stands out from the rest of the forest. It's probably obscuring something, otherwise it has no reason to be here. Temperature here has taken quite a spike, and I notice a layer of perspiration rising on my paws and nose.

Peering close into the mist, I unsheathe my sword and make one swift slash. The cloud dissipates, and I behold the rocky circular formation and the waterfall above that have made their presence known to me – a hot spring.

Well, would you look at that?

I'm at a loss for words. "Whoa" is just about the best I can say to describe this sight. It's beautiful. No, that doesn't do it justice. It's amazing. Nah, that's not enough, either. I wonder, are there any more places like this around here?

Letting that question pass, I remember that all those minutes, all those hours of walking have taken a lot out of me. I think that's also why my nose and paws are sweating like crazy. Why I'm _panting_ like crazy. Feeling captivated, I approach the hot spring and dip a finger into the water. Oh, wow! How warm. How pure. I can sense my mind going blank from the touch. My shoulders relaxing, the load upon them falling seamlessly to the ground.

Without any hesitation at all, I cast my old reliable sword aside at the nearest tree. Then I proceed to strip myself of my clothes, starting with my coat and finishing with the loose gi pants around my legs. Exposing my toned body and the cuts and scars that adorn it; the steam even feels nice on them. I hang the coat on a branch on the same my sword's next to, but keep the pants with me for a little.

"Hmm… I guess Heather was right. Maybe jeans aren't such a bad idea, after all," I comment while staring at my gi pants before entering the spring.

The warmth of the water is exactly what I need after the week that's just passed. As my body sinks deeper, I let my muscles ease up and loosen. I can feel the corners of my mind clearing up, the stress and worry of the everyday literally washing off of me. The chaff ups and rises with the steam, vanishing into nothing in a short amount of time.

Now fully relaxed, I search the depths of my head for a thought to focus on to pass the time. Since I mentioned her, I might as well just think about her a little…

Heather, the bartender at _Wild Ones'_ and my newest friend and co-worker, told me that I'd need to get a few things straightened out if I'm to stay here. She suggested that I get me a new set of clothes as a start once my payment from working at the bar comes. I should remember to thank her for that.

Actually, if it weren't for her, I would have no idea where to go or what to do. I'd still be wandering aimlessly, without a good head-start. Setbacks like money would have been a bigger problem in the long run. That, and her trust in me makes me feel less like the outsider that I really am. So I have a lot more to thank her for.

I wonder if I'll find others like her. Someone who doesn't turn a blind eye or a deaf ear to those in need. Someone who I can put my trust into, who I can lean on to when everything has gone to hell. Maybe I will, or maybe I won't.

For a while, time just drifts by me unnoticed. I don't think about it too much—or at all—and concentrate on the vibrant and soothing sounds that the forest has to offer. Nothing much matters right now, anyway.

But I can't stay idle any longer…

A rustle from the bushes nearby jars me awake, cutting my relaxation time a little short. Forcing me to scramble out of the water and leap for my belongings.

Son of a bitch, what is it now?

Droplets of water from every inch of my body, and as the canine that I am, I shake every bit of it off. Once that's done, I hastily dress myself up, starting with my pants and then my coat, and ready both my sword and my magic.

I was warned by Heather that the fauna here gets active at night, and some of them have a tendency to attack any unfortunate wanderers. But it's not dark yet. Hell, it's not even close to sundown yet. Not in the slightest.

Nothing happens at all. Nothing is attacking me; I'm being followed.

Realizing this, I ease my guard up a little and continue on my way.

But this presence still follows me; I can feel it. At this rate, my patience is going to run out. What am I to do? Should I call it out? And if I do, do I kill it or chew it off for following me around? Or would this all just be a waste of my time?

My decision made, I shoot a look over my shoulder. "Are you just gonna stand there and stare or what?"

I wait for this entity to respond. And, nothing…

With a sliver of patience remaining, I attempt at it again. "You're making this harder than it has to be." My voice disrupts the very flow of the forest and puts it to silence. Before I continue, I let a sigh fall from my mouth. My tone lightens up. "You're after me for a reason, right? If that's the case, then I suggest you get it over with like a man instead of playing ninja in the shadows. Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt you. That's why we have dark back alleys. You don't have to be scared."

A pair of long ears protrude out of a large rock in the distance. They must have heard me because they start moving. A blue-furred rabbit emerges from behind the boulder, with a backpack slung across its shoulder. He approaches me on ginger steps, his intentions yet to be determined.

He stops in front of me, and I catch a glint in his eye. A glow that should be familiar to me, but I can't really wrap my finger around.

"Who said I was scared?" says the rabbit boy. What a runty little voice he's got. _Puberty's a bitch, ain't it, kid?_

How long has he been tailing me? By the way he's holding his bag and how the weight is starting to get to him, I'd say for a long time. Why would he be wasting his time and energy watching my every step? Watching my every move?

"Y'know, stalking is one of the worst habits you can pick up, kid. And it's a hard one to break," I tell him, breaking a short silence. "Didn't your mom and dad ever teach you that?"

The boy shrugs at my question. I take in his whole appearance. His blue fur, his long ears, his shirt and pants, the backpack hanging on his shoulders and his violet eyes. I know those eyes from somewhere, which is weird because this is the first time I've met this child. Where have I seen them before?

 _Stay focused._

No, I can't have anyone else involved, especially not a child. This is my mission, my crusade, mine alone.

"Turn around and walk away, kid," I advise, turning my back on him. "I don't have time to play whatever game you're playing." I begin walking…

"Hold on!"

…only to be stopped cold on my track. I roll my eyes and grumble. I am so not in the mood for this.

"I've been looking all over for you for the last three days now," the child starts. "There's something about you that's been bothering me, and I just had to see this through."

"Is that so?" I say, pretending to sound interested. "Well, you found me. Now what? What would this 'something' be?" If I do this right, I can get him off of my back.

Judging by the look on his face, he has a lot that he needs to get out of his chest. He needs to bring it out in the open very badly. I'm not _completely_ indifferent, though, so I bring out that well-mannered side of me and just listen to him.

"I've got a gut feeling that you might have something that I'm looking for," the boy states and steps forward three times. His eyes glint as he takes those three steps. A flash of confidence and courage. A glimmer saying that I'm going to have to try my best to drive him away. "That's why I've been following you."

Hearing his testimony, I chuckle at it and him. "Then you might not want to trust that instinct of yours too much, because there's nothing to find here with me except trouble," I say, flashing an entertained chuckle. "Now if you'll excuse me, there are actually important things out there that I need to get to."

The leaves, twigs and dirt under my feet crack as I head off at last, hoping I won't have to hear any more from the blue bunny.

So far, so good. I know for a fact that he's still standing behind me, but not a peep can be heard out of him.

Then I hear the rushing sound, like a bullet fired from a gun. A miniature burst of fire is set off on the hill I'm just about to cross, followed by another one, preventing me from moving any further. Blue flames that burn brightly, brilliantly, having left an ember on my right shoulder in its wake. How did that…

Phased more by the occurrence and less by the fire that's on me, I put it out and turn around one hundred and eighty degrees. The rabbit child is holding a bamboo sword in both of his paws, its body dowsed in the same blue fire. I also notice that the shirt and pants he wore have been changed for an entirely different attire. A martial arts gi, punctuated by an orange belt on its waist holding it together.

A Grade Two Woo Foo Knight. This changes everything.

"Do I have your attention now?" he asks. He _demands_.

He certainly does.

With no other choice presented to me, I lend my ears to him and listen to the story he has to say…

…much to my chagrin.

Does this boy seem crazy to me? Yeah, he does. A little bit. Is it all believable? I don't know, that ball of flame he just flung at me kinda threw me for a loop for just a brief moment.

Am I going to help him?

Yes.

"Come, take a walk with me," I say to the rabbit calmly, gesturing at him to come close to me. Placing my hand around his back, as if he were my own child.

* * *

 _There's nothing to find here except trouble_ , I've been told.

 _Turn around and walk away, kid_ , I've been warned.

And yet I ignored these warnings, like the stubborn, battle-hungry, snot-nosed punk that I am. Sometimes, it's exactly who I am that lands me into situations like this. And this is one of the few instances where I'm beginning to regret. Where I'm having second thoughts.

What in the name of Foo was I thinking?

What the hell did I get myself into?

The hilt of my bamboo sword rubs itself harshly against my palm. I feel a blister—the second one in ten minutes, now—swell up under my fur. Each swing I take with my weapon agitates the burning sensation in my skin. My arms feel like they're about to give out at any second. Fall off limply down to the grass. And I'm secretly hoping that they do, so that this day can finally be over and done with.

Weapons are supposed to be extensions to a martial artist's senses, but this is just ridiculous. This sword might just as well be a part of my body as my arms and legs are.

I breathe heavily, regaining my composure. My free hand on my thumping chest. It's not over yet. Far from it. It's only just begun, my personal hell-on-earth. From the look of it all, this is nothing compared to what's coming next. A window for what I'll be facing soon.

I swore to myself to brave whatever hurdle is thrown at me in this journey of mine, and I have to. I can't afford to go back on my word. Now that I've reached this pivotal moment. Sometimes, though, I wish things were easier, even by just a little.

My newest Woo Foo teacher, Lupin, stands at a distance with peering, scrutinizing eyes. His tail wagging behind him at a leisurely speed, arms folded.

I'm the cadet, and he's the drill sergeant. His job is to whip me into shape, and mine is to roll with the punches. If it means making my insides bleed, my muscles sore and my bones snap or grind into powder, he will do it.

"Yang!" Lupin shouts out to me.

"Yes, sir?" I answer, standing attentively.

His upper lip curving into a sneer, Lupin snaps his fingers, commanding a big group of targets—person-shaped ones rather than the bullseye kind—to spring from the grass of the meadow. The detail on these things is just spot-on, with a set of limbs, a torso, a head and markers to designate these separate parts.

So far, my drill for the day consists of hacking away at an army of these training dummies with my sword. Slash at them and split them in half. All in the least amount of time possible. And it looks like that this drill is going to continue.

"Time to enhance your training. Ten seconds," yells Lupin, cupping his hands around his mouth. "That's the time you've got to clear this whole place out. Think you're up to it, you smartass whippersnapper?"

I can't believe what I'm hearing. Ten seconds? Are you for real? At this rate, my body's going to become pudding. This has to be punishment. I swear, he's trying to get back at me for the wisecracks I made at him.

And what exactly does he mean by 'whippersnapper'? It's not like he's older than me by ten years or anything.

Again, he calls out to me to make certain I hear him. "Well? I'm waiting."

"Alright, fine! I'll do it," I shout back at him, kicking the ground once. "Damned dog!"

With nothing more to say, I crouch into a starting position, imagining myself in a race. I sprint at the training dummies as fast as I can, maintaining a firm grip on the hilt of my sword. Slashing at each one of them, cutting them down, at a breakneck pace. A surreal pace. I've gone through this same exercise that preserving my form has become instinctive. My posture, my center of gravity and my accuracy adjust by themselves.

The thought of my arm potentially falling off becomes almost non-existent. I'm just hacking away at masses of straw and wood. Ounce after ounce of energy, one emotion after another, put into every stroke, every swing, of my sword.

The seconds wear on as I lunge from target to target and cut them down by the middle. I can't tell exactly how much time has passed. I come to a stop after the final training dummy collapses, staying idle in my crouching position. My sword arm stretches across my body, across and against my chest. Eyes closed, taking in careful breaths and letting them out heavily. It's the only noise that can be heard within twenty feet of me.

Lupin approaches me, keeping that strict look on his face trained on me. On my posture. Silently evaluating me, scrutinizing me. I can feel his gaze pouring over me, his eyes burrowing under my skin, my fur, my flesh – to tell me that I have much to learn. He's like a satellite or a surveillance camera, circling me slowly, angling himself to get as good a view on me as possible.

He's imposing his will, his authority, on me. The way he stops in front of me and stands, with both hands holding his hips, is evidence enough. That penetrating stare of his really brings the point across.

"Hm," he mutters, hesitating on his actual words. Knowing that he's toying with me by doing so. "A little better, I suppose."

Provoked, I leap up to my feet and exchange looks with him. "What do you mean 'a little better'?" I reply. "You said 'ten seconds', didn't you? Take every target down within that time? That's exactly what I did! I'd know because I kept count! I don't think that's just 'a little better'."

"Alright, fine. You've got a point. And I guess you're right…um, somewhat," he says.

Is he kidding? 'Somewhat' right? Alright, it's official: this 'training' has become nothing more but child abuse! Call it bitching if you want, but this isn't fair!

"What?" I say, baffled.

"I mean, uh…hm, let's see. How do I put this? Well, you've got your technique down, that's for sure. But I need to see a little more, um—how do you say it—'meaning' in you. I want to really feel every punch, every kick and every spell that you throw, even if I'm not on the receiving end of them."

"Oh, hippity hop me hard. M-meaning? Are you kidding me? Are we really going to talk about this again?" I let out a furious groan, palming my face in frustration. With whatever energy I have left, I use it to blurt out again – a decision that I'll be regretting. "I—ugh! This is such bullshit."

In an instant, I feel my stomach being violently rocked. A harsh, sudden impact that pulls the wind out of my lungs. And maybe some spit, too. One of Lupin's fists has lodged itself into my gut, imprinting its mark, his message, into me. I gather enough strength to determine that it does belong to him. My only reaction to this is to cough and grunt, to make the pain a little milder.

He retracts his arm, and I collapse to my knees, clenching my stomach with one arm, still groaning. Still coughing for air, to undull my vision and my head.

I probably needed that. Discipline, that is.

"I'm getting sick of this," he says coldly, looking down on me with his harsh eyes and folded arms. "How many times must I remind you? That's no way to speak to your seniors, especially one who's doing his damnedest to teach you. So for the last time, unless you want me to yank your ears out and hand them over to you, then you had better watch what comes out of that mouth of yours when I'm near you."

I breathe in and out, and take in his every word.

Cut off my ears? That's a bit too barbaric for my taste.

My master's face suddenly turns uneasy. He lets out a sigh to calm himself. Turning his back towards me, he walks off. Up a small grassy hill in this meadow. Not even bothering to pick up the pieces of wood scattered along the ground.

From the middle of the incline, I hear him amidst his footsteps and the rustling of the grass. "Follow me, Yang. I'd like to show you something."

At that, the last of my pain dies off. I jump to my feet and tail him from behind, slowing down once at exactly his tail's length away from him. Compelled by his sober words; this 'something' that he's going to show me must be important. At least to him. That's the only way I can put it. What I do know, on the other hand, is that another lecture from him awaits me. Very, VERY soon.

We go up the hill. The same trail that has brought us into the meadow, to these plains, out and back again. It's a long and boring walk, but with this scenery, punctuated by the abundance of grass and flowers, the open sky and warm sun, it's not all bad. It's actually uplifting. Blade after blade of grass, petal and stigma alike, all brushing against me, with the softness, the delicateness, of cotton.

Lupin and I walk and walk until we reach the top of the hill. At the end of our trek is an enormous cave. It was once the base of operations for Eradicus and his pack of cronies before his banishment. No one's set foot in it until now.

I still don't understand why Lupin chose this place, of all the other choices he had. Ever since he came here, he's made plenty of renovations. Refurbishments. With the aid of his nigh-unparalleled skill in Woo Foo, no doubt. His peerless aptitude in magic.

What used to be a stronghold for one of Woo Foo's most fearsome enemies has now been turned into a comfortable living space. Furniture laid out to resemble a normal house, rooms to evenly break up the cave, including one for myself. We still have a ways to go to really make this place stand out, but in its present state, it's more than enough.

Homey or not, it still feels barren to me at times, though.

My master has already gone ahead of me. Far ahead. He stops once he arrives at the living room and stares at a wall in front of him. From where he stands, Lupin's right ear starts twitching; he senses me from that far. His voice echoing in the cave, he says to me, "Come on, Yang. We haven't got all day."

I walk through the passage cautiously, wondering exactly what he might say to me. Within earshot of him, I say, "I'm here. What is it?"

"Take a look," says Lupin, pointing me to the wall his eyes are on. "This is what I want to show you."

It's not so much the wall he's looking at, but what's on it – a pair of swords mounted on wooden racks.

These two swords… I know them. Like they've come out of a history or textbook, because they have. They wouldn't be out of place in a museum. I've only seen them in images and scribblings preserved in the scrolls, books and other records kept safe in the dojo. One of them is enormous, probably as long as I am tall. The first thing I think of when I look at it is a claymore. The other sword is smaller and resembles a blade forged by the Japanese. It has a peculiar-looking hilt, shaped like a flute.

Of course. How could I not figure this out until now? These are the swords of the Original Knights. The Blade of the Mediator and the Blade of the Governor.

His eyes stay glued to the wall. To the ancient blades that hang from it. I gaze at them too. A sacred air emanates from these weapons, taking my breath away as I look upon them.

Reading about these swords in the scrolls and books, and looking at their pictures over and over again don't compare to this. To the rapture of this moment.

"Tell me, what do you see, Yang?" asks Lupin, his arms folded.

"This is…" I hesitate, in awe of these two treasures. Disarmed by their presence. "I can't believe it. These are the Blades of the Mediator and the Governor. This is the real deal, right?" My hesitation just about sums up how I feel. "Where did you find these? And how did you even get your hands on them?"

"That's not important." Lupin shakes his head. "I want to show these swords to you to make a point."

He takes a seat on a chair next to him and commands me to sit on the one opposite to him. Oh, great. Is this going to be a long-winded speech? A drawn-out, yet somewhat interesting life story?

"Would you care to give your master the favor of sharing a story?" he asks.

Aha! I knew it. I called it, right there. I nod and listen on, anyway. An air of wistfulness flitters around my master as he speaks.

"I have been practicing Woo Foo for as long as I've lived. Since the day I started, I admired everything about the art. I wore my title of Woo Foo Knight proudly. Like a badge. And because I loved the art so much, I made a vow to myself to carry it on throughout the generations. To preserve it. To protect it with every fiber of my being. But I knew then and there that a crusade like this required strength. Strength, fortitude and foresight. I told myself, over and over, not to lose sight of why I did what I did. Those two swords are one of many aspects of the art I want to protect, and they also serve as a reminder. But…" He sighs, hunching over slightly. He closes his eyes and briefly covers his face with his hands.

"But what?" I ask, inevitably engrossed in his tale.

"To put it bluntly, life doesn't always turn out the way you'd hope. Let's just say I'm not the sort of person you'd want as a role model." The smile on his face wavers, just ready to fade at any second. It already has. That was quick.

He can't possibly mean what I think he means, right? I mean his skill as a Woo Foo Knight is sure to earn him the respect of others. That's enough of a reason why others would look up to him. Granted, I don't quite see him that way since I don't know him that well yet, but anyone with half a brain would find one thing or another about him to admire.

I can't really figure it out, so I simply shake my head, shrug and say, "I'm sorry, but I don't see where this is all going."

"What I'm trying to say is," says Lupin, tilting his head upwards. "Power with conviction is very different from power without." He moves closer to me and brings my right hand into both of his. Like he's making a marriage proposal. I almost shudder, but remember that this isn't what's on his mind. "Swear it to me, Yang, that you won't ever lose sight of your conviction. If you're going to fight, you need to hold on to what you're fighting for and never let go of it. It's perfectly fine to want to become stronger. I wanted the exact same thing at your age. But along the way, you might forget the reason why you're doing what you're doing in the first place. Far too often, there have been others like us who've fallen victim to this. And in their search for higher power, they lost themselves. Their sanity. If you seek power solely for the sake of it, you'll crave for even more of it, and you _will_ go mad. So Yang, please promise me that you'll remember this. You _will_ remember this, right?" There's something about the way he says this that unnerves me. As if these words, these sentences, are spoken by a desperate, ordinary person and not by my Woo Foo teacher. I notice that his grip on my hand has gotten tighter, too.

"O-okay. I will—" My stammering doesn't help at all.

"No, no, no! That's not good enough!" shouts Lupin, cutting me off. His grip starting to hurt. "I want you to mean it. I want to see that you really understand where I'm coming from."

"Okay. I promise, Lupin. I'm not going to lose sight." I nod my head at him, taking in his wisdom.

I allow a moment to further ponder on his words. On the vow he forced me to make.

There's so much more to me wanting to be stronger than anyone might know. Everywhere I go, everywhere I turn, I've always been known as headstrong. Brave. Confident to a fault. Often times I believe it all to be true and actually fit the mold that the people have made for me.

But just as often, they're more of a shield than anything. At times, I hide behind this mask. Put up a pretense of strength, a false sense of worth, when really, it's hard to stay strong. Especially when my own master and sister bring out every possible fault they see in me, no matter how big or small they may be. No one has ever seen past this charade. This mask. No one sees my inadequacies, and they never will.

If I can obtain that power I want—no, that power I _need_ —then I can protect everything, every _one_ , I care about. If I can attain that goal, then no one will have to bog me down with their expectations of me. No longer will I have to feel so worthless. I can actually have something to be proud of about myself.

After finishing my daydreaming, I turn my attention to Lupin, who is on his knees and groping his neck with one hand and his chest with another. He hunches over, groaning in pain and struggling for air. Seconds later, he arches his back and releases a feral scream towards the ceiling, expelling the pressure out of his body. An aura of black envelops him as he yells out.

"Lupin!" I shout, catching him just as he's about to fall forward.

His screaming stops and is replaced by slow, controlled breaths. I think about letting him go so that he can stand on his own two feet, but decide at the last second not to. I need him.

"A-are you okay?" My speech is shaky from what I had just seen, but I regain control of it.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am," responds Lupin, his manner of speaking…different from what it was a few minutes ago.

"You sure about that?"

"I said I'm fine, goddamnit!" he shouts, startling me. This person doesn't feel like my master at all right now. "It's just heartburn, nothing a glass of water can't fix." He adds to save face. The way I see it, he's still here. In appearance, anyway. Back on his feet, he continues. "Actually, Yang, I've got something else I want to tell you."

"Okay? What is it?"

Moving away from the furniture, Lupin sets his eyes back on the two swords. He takes quite a long pause and then asks, "Do you by any chance know about the Woo Foo Grimoire?"

"The Woo Foo Grimoire… Nope. Never heard of it." I shake my head.

"It's an artefact that dates back to more than a century ago. Despite its name, it is not a book. It acts as a beacon and accumulates traces of Fog within its vicinity."

"Fog?" I let the word hover about.

Fog. A substance known only amongst Woo Foo Knights. It is the life force, the very essence, of the Infernal Beast. The unseeable remnants scattered across the world following its demise during that legendary war thousands of years ago. According to tales of the olden days, Fog is every ill emotion and trait made manifest. Anger. Hatred. Lust. Jealousy.

Those tales have also said any who harnessed it would have their strength multiplied. Only the strong-willed, or completely insane, would dare take this power for themselves. But in all honesty, why would anyone tap into something so dangerous in the first place? These people may have had their reasons, but was it really worth it in the end?

Although, it does sound appealing. Having your strength, your prowess, grown by a hundredfold. In the stories that I've heard of, none of them tell of one Woo Foo warrior successfully taking the Fog's power for his or her own. These stories always ended the same: with these knights' demise. Some of them dignified, others less so.

But better men have tried, and better men have failed. Maybe they didn't have a strong enough conviction, or if they did, their grip on it wasn't firm. Perhaps now will be different from before. I'm willing to go the distance. To protect everything and everyone dear, to prove I'm worth more than what people think, if I must, then I will.

My master elaborates more on the subject. "The Grimoire does not always have to take form of a book. It can be whatever its wielder wishes it to be. As of now, it has noform. It's just a mass of energy in need of a master."

"How do you know all this?"

He puts his right paw inside of his coat, searching its pocket, arousing my suspicion. "I've had these toys with me for a long time for safe keeping." In his possession is a small glowing sphere that emanates a strong, unearthly aura. "Including this one."

"This is…" I say in awe, approaching the object. Reaching out a paw to caress its surface. If he's showing it to me now, could that mean he…

"I can see it in your eyes, Yang," Lupin continues, his words befuddling. "I've always wondered if you have what it takes to shoulder this burden. Looks like you do. Don't be fooled, though. This is anything but an 'easy way out'. Your training is far from over." I figured as much. "Do not make the mistake that this power is yours; it's only a lease. Nothing can ever replace your own capacity as a Woo Foo Knight." His words, the way he utters them, causes my spine to tingle, scuttle, frenetically. Shivers roll from there to my fur, to my skin. It tells me to really take heed. "But I digress. This is your decision. Are you ready to get a glimpse of higher power? Can you tame this Grimoire?"

When he says the word 'tame', I begin to think that a struggle of some sort is involved here. Tame. Control. They're essentially one and the same. Now that I think about it, that must be what he means. This Woo Foo Grimoire must be so amazing, so far beyond comprehension. Beyond the world's reasoning, beyond its logic. Its present form—a mass of energy with a spiral at its center—and my master's chilling words just point to it.

I think I'm strong enough for this. No, that doesn't sound quite right. I _know_ I'm strong enough. I can do this. I've endured many hurdles as a Woo Foo Knight. Harnessing forbidden power won't be too far from the norm of what I've faced. Convincing myself of this, I nod at his question and bow in reverence to him.

"I'm ready. Bring it on," I say, closing my paw into a fist. Doubt remains in my words, in my posture, but it is dwarfed by my confidence.

"Very well," responds Lupin, in an almost regretful manner. "Before we begin, I must warn you, Yang. When you first come into contact with this Grimoire, it will test you."

"Test?" I've always had a dislike for the word. I don't know what direction he's about to go, but already I don't like it. Not one bit. "What's going to happen?"

"A precautionary measure. The Grimoire will read you—your heart, your mind, your body, your spirit. It will evaluate your worth. It will seek the truth in your intentions and judge your capability."

His statements make me feel slightly uncomfortable. Specifically, about the Grimoire digging deep into me and seeing me. There are things I'd much rather keep to myself, and I don't need to be violated, debased, by having them revealed.

"How's it going to do that?" I say, a little unnerved.

"Your body will take in quantities of the energy stored in the Grimoire in order for it to adapt," answers Lupin. "It will be excruciating. You either pass with flying colors or you fail tragically. Succeed, and the Grimoire is under your thrall in the form you wish it to take." Ten seconds of silence fleet by after that last sentence. A short amount of time, but it's torturous to me.

"And if I _don't_ succeed?"

Five more seconds. Damn it, I wish he wouldn't do this. "Then you will die," he says gravely, somberly. In a low tone, hunched over a little. Enunciating his every word.

Well, that's just great. Just what I need: a life and death situation. Only one week after finding myself a new Woo Foo teacher, and now it's do or die. How _refreshing_.

Oh, wait. No, it isn't.

"There's no shame in turning away, Yang," says Lupin in an attempt to comfort me. Noticing how badly I'm affected by this realization.

Multiple emotions encroach upon my mind, upon my heart. Doubt. Fear. Hopelessness. They all wish to consume me. To paralyze me from within. To keep me from what I'm searching for.

A minute later, I purge these feelings and make up my mind. "I'm not backing down! I'm ready!"

"Alright." The lustrous sphere still in his paw, Lupin approaches me. "Give me your arm." He brings forth his free paw. I oblige, entrusting my right arm into his grasp.

As he moves his paw to my wrist and fastens his grip, I think of an operating room in a hospital. This procedure is no different from an operation; I am the weary patient in need of the treatment, and Lupin is the doctor in charge, lulling me to sleep with the anesthesia. Readying his scalpel and going to work.

There is one difference. Surgery is performed to treat patients, to save their lives. Acquiring this artifact serves the direct opposite purpose.

The Grimoire is an inch away from touching my hand, but before Lupin puts it there, he looks at me over his shoulder, a new look upon his face. A reassuring expression. The same expression that a patient's loved ones give as his or her life dangles on that slender thread.

"Close your eyes," he orders, his voice soothing. "Focus. Concentrate on the Grimoire and what you want it to become. Concentrate on your conviction, hold on to it tight."

I do just that, my surroundings disappearing. Visions flood me, approaching me from every angle, every direction. They are apparitions of those dear to me. My loved ones—friends and family alike—those I want to protect. _Must_ protect. One by one they enter this black realm that is my consciousness, their voices resonant.

My skelewog friend and rival, Roger Jr.

My on-and-off, but still important friend, Coop.

The other on-off friend in our circle, Dave.

The rest of my companions join them, but they are the ones I recognize immediately.

Finally, she arrives. That purple dress, that cyan fur, the sass in her voice. My dear Lina. Seeing her sends my chest soaring and my entire frame light on its feet.

They come and go, materializing in a flash and vanishing into the dark just as quickly.

In their place, the two people closest to me make their appearance.

First to appear is him. That black and white fur, those violet eyes, his stern expression. The one who molded me into the warrior I am today. A face like that is one you can never forget. Not that I'd dare forget about him. Though I don't admit it, and my actions say otherwise, I do owe much to him and his guidance. My master and father, Yo.

And then she appears. Her pink fur. Her rabbit ears, as long as mine, and the bow that holds them together. The face that she and I share. The one who's been by my side since the very beginning. Like looking at a mirror. She and I have been through so much. We've had our ups and downs, our highs and lows. We bicker, we argue, we disagree, we get on each other's nerves…but if it were any different, then it just wouldn't be the same. I wouldn't want it any other way. At the end of the day, I care about her more than any other.

My twin sister. My other. Yin.

Everyone…

After the two of them leave, my sight is distorted. It's begun! Light flashes in this space at frenetic, uneven intervals. Everything within my reach is grainy and gray, like the inside of one of my master's old television shows. Being here hurts. Sharp surges swell with the static. I scream choked screams, my throat locking and unlocking. I can't not scream from this.

The faces I've seen appear and disappear. Rapidly. On and on, over and over. The pain burns my insides and spreads to every part of me. Holding my ground is harder now. I'm losing it. I'm losing myself. My consciousness, slipping. Ounce after ounce of strength depletes. I feel it fading fast. Is this…it? Is this the end…?

 _Roger._

 _Dave._

 _Coop…_

 _Lina…_

 _Master…Yo._

…

…

 _Yin…_

It's over. The pain has stopped. By that time, though, so has my body. Helplessly I fall to the floor. Darkness crawls towards me, intending to swallow me whole. It's cold. I can't fight back. I can't wake up. I can't even nudge.

Someone's calling out to me. I grab hold of it – a tiny thread of rope.

"Yang?"

"Yang…"

"YANG!"

The voice is gone. So am I…


	10. An unhealthy vice

_**Calamity Hoppers ~Reprise~**_

 **by Christopher R. Martin**

Chapter 10 – An unhealthy vice

* * *

 _One week. That's all that's passed, yet to me, it's equal to an eternity._

 _Yang… Why aren't you calling us? Me? You didn't do anything to your cell phone, did you? You couldn't have done it, have you? What I feared you would do?_

 _I'm always appearing strong to the outside world, putting on a brave face every time to keep everyone from worrying. But if only you could see the kind of toll this short amount of time has taken on me. I'm like a child who just had her favorite toy taken away from her. It just isn't the same. Not when I'm kicking that cockroach's ass for the umpteenth time, not when Lina and I hang out and talk about banal stuff—not saying_ you're _'banal' or anything—not when Master Yo's biting just my head off, nothing._

 _This is your choice. This is your journey. I get that. I know that you have to go it alone, but it doesn't change the way I look at any of this. It can't quiet my yearning. It can't deny how much I truly need you. Nothing can._

 _Sure we piss each other off, and we probably wished something about being an only child. Something about the other dropping dead or disappearing. I know I did; disgusting, huh? Yeah, yeah, it's unforgivable. But I can never mean that. You can grate my nerves for all I care, you can use my crayons for your crappy slideshows or picture books or whatever, but I can't wish any of this to you._

 _Yang._

 _My twin._

 _My big brother._

 _You told me that day that I was clingy. I didn't mean to sound like that. I don't know what came over me. I was just…mad. Mad that you might not forgive me. It's just that I cherish you more than anything. More than any earthly possession, more than any boy I get suckered into liking. That's because I know a sibling comes once in a blue moon. Or once in a lifetime._

 _So promise me. I doubt you'll get this, but swear to me. Wherever you are right now, whatever you're up to right now, please make it back._

These are my thoughts lately. Day in, day out. Corny, I know, but being away from my brother has hit me harder than I expected.

* * *

The school bell blares into my ears, nearly startling me to death. _Nearly_. Another day at the Woo Foo Academy comes to a close, and so does another week.

"And that'll do it for today. Until next time, everyone," I announce as the students leap from their seats and haphazardly dump their things into their bags.

A beautiful Friday afternoon welcomes the whole world with open arms, the sun practically smiling down upon this town. Not a single cloud looms in the skies, and the slightest hint of one is banished by the warm rays of light. It's too bad that this shine can't find its way past wood. Past the walls of this schoolhouse. There are no windows here, which makes it worse. It's almost like a prison in here. I've spoken to my master and father about this, and he said he'd make some renovations come the next semester.

Everyone's in a hurry as always. They all want to feel the sunlight on their skin, on their faces. Inhale the crisp afternoon air. Weiss is just as eager, but she takes her time, ensuring that she hasn't missed any of her belongings and have been put away neatly. She may be moving at a slower pace than everyone else, but it doesn't necessarily mean she's bothered.

After packing up, she approaches me at the teacher's desk. Flashing a smile at her, I say courteously, "Good job as always, Weiss."

"Thank you, Miss Yin," she returns, a flush surfacing on her cheeks. "But you're being a bit too kind."

"No, I'm dead serious." I clasp my hands together and rest my chin on top of them. "If only there was a way we could hardwire the other kids' brains to be more like you."

I say this as I look over yet another worksheet with a score of sixty-five percent, groaning in displeasure. Flopping my face on the desk. They're kids, I know—I am too—and they're supposed to be unruly, lively and unpredictable. And I don't mean that whole 'brain rewiring' thing literally, if at all, but at the same time I do wish they were more disciplined.

Weiss brings a finger to her lips and giggles. She pans her head across the room, in search for something. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but where was Mister Yang today? Is he sick?"

"Hm? Yang? Oh, he's fine," I say casually, mirroring her giggling just now. She doesn't know that I'm forcing the laughter out. "Something came up, and he had to go out of town. He should be back next week or the week after."

"Out of town?" There's concern in her voice, her question. "For what?"

"Just had to take care of some Woo Foo business."

"Is he going to be fine by himself?"

"I'm sure he will be. He's tough as nails, according to him, and I see no reason to disagree."

"Still, won't it be dangerous for a twelve year-old to be going alone? Don't you think he should have a grown-up go with him?" The last question is peculiar to me. Weiss is younger than us by four years. Hearing a sentence like that come from her of all people is rather funny, I have to admit.

I giggle a little at her naiveté, but soon cut myself short. I hate the idea of either me or my brother being alone, without each other when the need arises, but this is the path he chose. One that may indeed be necessary.

I put a hand on her shoulder, and she eases her frame. "You don't have to worry, Weiss. Yang and I, we've faced a lot of things. If there's anyone I know who can more than hold his own, it's my brother. Just trust in him"—the same way that I do—"and trust that he'll make it back, because he will."

"Alright. Alright, I will." Weiss nods at me, preserving her smile.

And at that moment, a car horn blares from outside, alerting the two of us. It must be her twenty-three year-old brother or her ailing mother in her family's station wagon waiting impatiently outside. The sound repeats itself three times and prompts Weiss to get moving.

"Oops. Gotta go. I'll see you next week, Miss Yin," she calls whilst dashing out the door and looking over her shoulder. A familiar cheerful air quivers around her as she exits the dojo grounds.

In a matter of seconds, I catch a glimpse of the station wagon driving on the road.

Now by myself, I grab a red pen from the desk and return to scoring the thick pile of worksheets on the side. I have to say, being a teacher _is_ pretty fun. I enjoy the authority, the responsibility of a bunch of other children younger than me, the sense of worth from shaping them into something strong and proud.

But it isn't always easy. There are parts to it that are less than glamorous. At worst, I detest them. Grading schoolwork is one of them. While a good portion of these sheets are legible enough that I can make them out, the rest of them have unnecessary scribbles and eraser shavings that makes the process more tedious than they need to be. Then again, who said that anything in this world ever came easy?

 _Jeez, Dad. Don't you think this is something_ you _should be doing? Or at least, would it kill you to help me out with it? I can only do so much. I'm no superhero. Ugh!_

My frustration has me banging my fist for the first time in a long time. Soon enough, the rest of my emotions are about to flare.

No, no, no. I should calm myself. As a Woo Foo Knight, losing control of my feelings is the last thing I should allow to happen. I need to keep them in check.

 _Come on now, Yin. Take it easy and get a grip. Just remember to breathe. In and out, and through the diaphragm. Now take it from the top. It's just a bunch of papers. It's not going to take you the entire day. I mean, how bad can it be?_

It's then that I realize that maybe it isn't the grading that's getting to me. Maybe it's the fact that Yang isn't here. The fact that he's been gone for more than a week, and I haven't heard from him since. Maybe I just miss him. What I would give to hear his voice. In my ear, not in my head.

I really should stop this. He _did_ say I came off as clingy the day he left. Needy, to the point of obsessive. I need to stop. If I keep this up, I might end up giving mixed signals. People might think that my brother and I have something…more.

Ugh! Now I know I'm really messed up. Where on Earth did THAT idea come from?

The sound of the door sliding open reaches my ear, prompting me to sit upright. Lina enters the schoolhouse and makes her way towards me. I completely forgot. She and I were supposed to get a bouquet of flowers for Weiss's mother. How long was she waiting for me at the dojo? I'm betting a while because she stares at me waiting for me to get on my feet.

"Hey, Yin," she bids, sitting on the edge of the desk.

"Oh hi, Lina," I say back, finding out where I left off after almost passing out. "Real sorry to keep you waiting. This week's just been… Eugh!"

"I'll say. I think you've got a bit of a five o'clock shadow going on there," says Lina, obviously meaning for it to be a joke and chuckling.

"Gee, thanks for the concern," I utter dryly. "Sorry to be a complete stick-in-the-mud, but I've fallen a bit behind on grading these papers and I really need to get it done. Think you can wait just a _wee_ bit longer?"

Asking her that was probably not the best idea I've had since she's waited long enough as it is. Thankfully she doesn't mind and just wanders around the schoolhouse, and I get back to work, like a worker ant among a colony of hundreds. She and our other friends aren't always around, so this may as well be like the first time she's been here.

As she inspects each nook and cranny and I write my feedback on the remaining worksheets, we share a bit of menial talk to make time fly faster. Our topics range from Lina's farm life, which has seen significant changes since she learned Woo Foo, to the most recent issue of _Peachy Teen_ magazine. She even mentions the return of the metal beetle infestation that plagued her farm and how she was able to fend them off single-handedly.

Finally, I'm done with the last of these papers. And the best part is it didn't take me as long as I had feared. I'd say roughly twenty minutes at most. Putting the red pen back into its holster, I get up from my chair and slap my hands together, which snaps Lina's attention to me. I rub my hands and join her by the door.

She's somewhat annoyed, or even mad, at me. She doesn't say it, but her posture does. Fingers crossed that she can look past it.

"Sorry it took me a while, Lina," I say, sliding the door open.

"Not a problem," she replies, hopping down the steps. Hiding her frustration, or maybe suppressing it. We proceed past the dojo grounds.

"You _cannot_ believe what I have to put up with. The handwriting of some of these kids, I swear. It's unbelievable, and not in a good way."

"Eh, what's important is it's done and dusted. Now let's hurry. No telling if the guy's already gone." At least she understands.

Lina and I are walking along the sidewalk, picking up the pace with each second. We keep our eyes open for a florist who comes by this part of the street once every two weeks. At this rate, we should still be able to catch up with him. And wouldn't you know it, there he is, at his usual spot, peddling his wares. Actually, he's just about to leave, packing away his things on his cart.

"Come on," urges Lina, sprinting.

From here, we can get to him in three minutes. But why wait?

"Wait. I've got a better idea," I call out to her, grabbing her by the wrist. Drawing my energy into my vacant hand. A burst of light blankets us in an instant as I shout, "Foo-portate!"

My spell transports us right in front of the cart and the florist, who strangely isn't startled by the flashing sphere of light in front of him. I guess he's seen enough Woo Foo to last a lifetime, like the rest of this town, that it's lost its surprise factor. He does get distracted from lighting up the cigarette in his mouth, which annoys him.

Lina moves towards the cart and sees what's available, while I do so a little farther away. My original impression on these flowers was that they were ordinary. Run-of-the-mill. 'Just another'. After a bit of convincing from Lina and paying an initial visit, I've been proven wrong. These beauties are second-to-none, clearly nurtured with proper care. The first time I took a look at them, I was taken aback; a single bouquet costs about as much as the allowance my father gives me. Since this is for Weiss, I can make an exception.

"Take a good look, ladies. Let me know what strikes your fancy," says the florist, trying to get into the selling mood despite being just about ready to leave. He does a good job masking his annoyance.

A second or two of browsing, and Lina decides before I do on what to get. She points a finger to a bunch of reddish pink flowers and green leaves on the left edge of the cart. She caresses one of the blossoms with the heel of her paw, her motions delicate. The care and ease in which she handles it makes me smile briefly.

"Ah, a fine choice, little lady. You can't go wrong with these babies," the florist states, moving to Lina's side. "They're perfect for any occasion. Baby shower, bridal shower, wedding, bachelor party, birthday, funeral, you name it, it will fit."

"Camellias. _Tsubaki_ ," she whispers under her breath. The florist might not pick it up, but my rabbit ears do. She must have picked it up from Yang's latest fascination with everything Japanese, from the language to that anime and manga thing, whatever they're called.

Thinking of the name once more has me seeing his face at every turn. I am unable to repel the thought of him. The times where I'm free of them don't last or are cut short. Something needs to be done about this.

"I think this is the one. Don't you think, Yin?" Lina faces me, awaiting an answer.

"Seems that way. How much, sir?" I fish my pocket for my wallet as I ask the question.

The florist takes the entire bouquet into his hands and pulls a drawer open, muttering audibly to himself. "One bouquet of camellias. Hmm. That'll be twenty-nine ninety-nine, thank you."

Lina and I flinch, astonished by the price. I guess it makes sense for flowers this beautiful to cost a good amount of money, but thirty dollars is a little much. We both pull out a few dollar bills from our wallets and count them up. She shows a ten while I show two twenties, one of which I had taken from Yang as some harmless prank. He might not mind that his money went to a good cause.

Damn it, there they are again. Why can't these thoughts just leave me alone for two seconds? Is that too much to ask for?

Okay, okay. I can make it through. I can survive. As long as I don't say or think of…you-know-who, this day will be over.

"Yin?" asks Lina, waving her hand over my face. I break from my second trance. She and the florist are looking at me with dumbfound expressions. "Think you can pay up already? The man has places to go to."

Sheepishly I giggle and apologize to the man. I turn the money over to him, ensuring that Yang's note remains in my hands. Waving the cash in the air at us and bidding his goodbyes, the florist saunters away, down the street.

Lina and I start the walk back to the dojo. On the way there, she brings the camellia bunch up to her snout and whiffs at them long and hard, sucking out their fragrance all to herself. She can't resist herself, and I can't resist laughing. You'd think that for someone who grew up at a farm, this wouldn't be anything new to her.

I inhale the flowers myself, my senses stimulated by the aroma. This could be what Weiss's mother—no, the whole family needs to cheer them up.

"I think I might leave some for Yang," Lina comments. Oh, crap. "I'm sure Weiss won't notice, and this'll be—" She carries on and on, and her words become less audible.

Yang… Why? No matter where I go, no matter where I look, I end up face to face with his apparition. All it takes is one fleeting mention, one passing comment, about him. I miss him, but only now have I thought about how much. Do I really miss him that badly? Am I as needy, as clingy, as he said I was?

I don't know. I just don't know… I hate being this confused. This lost. One whole week apart does that to a person, and not hearing from him makes it even worse. I want to get it all out in the open. I want to scream.

And that is what I end up doing, groping my head like a basketball, sealing my ears in some misguided attempt to stop the visions from appearing. My throat engulfed in flames, my mind releasing its own screams. Unaware of who's staring at me – the passersby or Lina.

"Okay, okay, I'll go look somewhere else and get my own," says Lina, annoyed. "Jeez Louise, there's no need to make a scene."

Rebounding from my outburst just now, I rub my head and sigh. "No, no, that's not it. It's just…" Inhale, exhale. Great. That's just great. Now I have to remember how to breathe.

"You alright, girl?" Lina touches my side.

"Yeah. I am. I think," I answer her tentatively, moving my fingers up and down my temples. Clarity arrives in my mind, and I reach a decision. "Actually, Lina, something's come up. Why don't you go and bring these over to Weiss yourself?"

"Not feeling well, huh?" She quirks the edge of her mouth, having noticed this all afternoon now. I nod my head, and she adds, "Migraines?"

"You could say that." I think a better word would be 'hallucinations'. Visions. Delirium. Any one of them will do.

Lina sighs, obviously disappointed. But I know better than to ruin my best friend's day over something meager. Something petty, something that will eventually go away. Then again, these…hallucinations won't disappear. Not for a while.

Rubbing my head for a few more seconds, I say to her shakily, "Sorry to do this to you, Lina. I could really use some alone time. Just make sure this gets to Weiss, alright?"

"And I can take some for myself?" Lina smiles at me cheekily, a dimple surfacing on her cheek.

I roll my eyes on her, alleviated temporarily. "Yes, you can, but no more than two." Gazing at the Camellia bunch one last time, I give her a quick embrace and place my trust in her. With everything said and done, I hurry into the dojo entrance.

Behind me, I hear Lina telling me, "Just take it easy, you hear me?" I cast an over-the-shoulder gaze at her smile, and I return her expression.

"I'll keep that in mind."

The two of us are then on our opposite ways, Lina to Weiss and her family, with the bouquet in her possession, and me towards the Woo Foo dojo, consumed, gnawed at, by my thoughts, my musings. Not exactly how I expected the day to turn out. I have to be out of sight. Somewhere where no one can see me losing my mind.

Fortunately, I always have the dojo to turn to. That should be a good start. But still, there have been times where this sanctuary was breached. Like right now.

I stride into the dojo, flying past my father sitting in front of the TV, and up to my room. I close the door behind me shut with my magic and spring onto my bed, where I don't resist the visages any longer and let them run wild. If I can just find something that will remind me of him, something that will give me the comfort of knowing his inevitable return…

I remain on my bed until seven o'clock later in the evening. Gathering myself, I proceed to Yang's desk, filled to the brim with his junk. Comic books, scrunched-up sheets of paper, pens, pencils, erasers and their shavings, it has everything and more. To the side are a notebook and a collection of scrolls sprawled in such a way that they're a part of the rest of his crap.

The topics covered in the scrolls are of the ancient Woo Foo weaponry – the Twelve Crystals and the Twelve Talismans, or the _Kami no Gofu_. The writings on the notebook are newly written and more specific, covering aspects like Woo Foo energy and the Infernal Beast. Some pages have been ripped out and are comprised of nothing but scribbles. They were made violently. They are a testament of my brother's anger. I carefully let out a breath at the sight of them.

I turn over sheet after scribbled sheet until I come across several that have drawings on them. They aren't mere doodles, they are articulate. Detailed. Yang's artistry sure has come a long way since that book he made back when he and I were six. The first drawing is of a dog, or a dog-like creature. Its hulking black body overlooks a small town, its eyes vacant and gleaming. On its maw are rows of fangs so sharp that they can tear through metal. After shifting back and forth between both sides of the drawing do I realize what this dog is.

The Infernal Beast.

Even without uttering those three words, they still cause a shiver to roll along my spine, scuttle across my skin. I have never encountered this monster myself, but it might be for the best that it stays that way.

At the bottom of the picture is one single word repeated ad infinitum.

 _Fog._

 _Fog._

 _Fog._

 _Fog._

 _Fog._

 _Fog._

It goes on until the very end of the paper, but it doesn't stop there. The following pages are filled to the brim with this one word, too.

This couldn't have been my brother's doing. It has to be a mad man. Then again, this _is_ his handwriting. Rough around the edges, per se, but still with a feel of refinement.

At that moment, I realize that he really did do this. Protruding under the mountain of junk is one last page dislodged from his notebook. Gently I pull it out and see another drawing. It portrays a canine again, except this one is not on his all-fours. He's dressed in a brown long coat and a pair of white gi pants, and in one of his paws is a sword concealed in its scabbard.

Like the last illustration, the attention to detail is immaculate. Everything about this person is defined. His clothes, his ears, the erect strands of fur, his canine tail, his snout, the weapon in his possession, they're all clear as crystal. It's mesmerizing.

I recall Yang telling us before he left that he dreamt of a wolf person. That he was visited by him. That must explain how he could accurately draw someone he's never actually met before.

Another thing I remember from that day is the haunting look on my master's face during this conversation. The utterance of this wolf has drained the color from his eyes, left him stunned. It was brief, but the mark left was very noticeable. He looked like he'd seen a ghost. One that has sprung from his past all of a sudden, one with an agenda. A vendetta.

There is one last question that badgers me, but the answers to it arrive before I get the chance to ask. It appears in the form of a news bulletin that I hear on the TV as I head out of my room and down the flight of stairs. The anchor behind the news table announces the interruption of one of Dad's soap operas for an important announcement, which is no doubt being broadcasted throughout this town at this very moment. She warns of the graphic nature before proceeding with her report.

" _What you are witnessing before you is an entire block in the main business district engulfed in flames and residents fleeing the area. Reports pouring in on the matter claim that these substantial damages are the result of a single individual: a rabbit boy dressed in a violet sweatshirt and carrying with him what appears to be a giant sword. There are currently no recent developments on the child's motives and reasoning behind his actions, but several townspeople have claimed him to be a quote-unquote 'Woo Foo Knight'. Local law enforcement has already dispatched into the scene and evacuated passersby within the vicinity, although they are unable to contain the threat. This is certainly a dark hour for our fair town, and government officials and the police commissioner has advised everyone to stay indoors until further notice."_

As she delivers her report, the screen displays footage of a certain part of town that is engulfed in towering, roaring flames. Standing in the middle of the blaze is a figure holding an enormous sword, as the anchor described. Though it is nothing more but a silhouette, I recognize the image it bears on the spot.

But it can't be. It just can't be! The _anchor_ did say that this was a boy, and he was a rabbit. So it must be him…

Yang. Can it really be?


	11. Never forgotten

_**Calamity Hoppers ~Reprise~**_

 **by Christopher R. Martin**

Chapter 11 – Never forgotten

* * *

The dojo doesn't see a lot of activity at night, but tonight, it feels especially empty. Darkness encroaches and overwhelms any small crack of light within the living room to bring the point home. Its only other distinguishing feature is the potent brew of my coffee, steaming hot in my favorite mug. Yin had gotten it for me as a Father's Day present, and I've used it a lot since then.

Arriving from the kitchen, I settle down on the couch in front of me and rest my head upon the nearest armrest. I grab the remote from the coffee table and flip the television on. I turn it on and tune in to a breaking news bulletin…

The report shows live footage of a certain district of the town decimated, abandoned, consumed in walls of fire. The anchor talks through the situation as it plays, explaining the obvious and not-so-obvious. She describes the perpetrator as being male, a child, a rabbit, and in possession of a dangerous weapon. She also brings up that he may or may not be a 'so-called Woo Foo Knight' and states that his intentions are not yet known. Police officers have broken into the scene to contain the threat, but have proven to be unsuccessful. The report ends with her urging citizens to remain indoors and for anyone within the vicinity to evacuate as soon as possible.

Stunned by this turn of events, I shut the television off and place the remote back where I got it from. My thoughts run wild, and there's no use trying to pin them down. Keeping my body still and collected, I close my eyes and pace my breaths.

She said 'rabbit' and 'child' and 'Woo Foo'. Of course, just from those words alone, I already know who it is. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to put two and two together. I mean, who else could it be?

 _Here we are again. First, it was him. Then, me. And after that, Yin. Now, it's you. How many times do I have to go back to this phase?_ The worst isn't yet to come; it already has. There's only one person in this world to blame for that. That person is standing right here, in the same dojo, the same room, as I am. That person is me.

Every terrible choice, every poorly thought-out decision, has come back to me. This isn't the first time they've bitten me in the ass. This is my punishment. My recompense. For my complacency, for taking the shortcuts I've taken. Despite my pure intentions, despite my desire to make the right choices, all I end up doing is making the wrong ones.

The Woo Foo scrolls have a proverb about that. I believe it goes something like: _We are shaped by action, whether big or small. Past, present and future, any and all._ Of all the times I remember that, it just has to be now. This must be a sick joke on God's part. I bet he's looking down from his throne, laughing as he has a go at me.

Footsteps then thump from the staircase, highly audible from the general emptiness of the place. From out of the darkness steps Yin who must have seen the news bulletin this whole time. Knowing the kind of person she is, she'll be asking for an explanation shortly. Whatever she wants to find out, I can give it to her. For the most part…

"It can't really be him, can it?" she asks with solemnity, holding out on a sliver of hope about to slip past her fingers.

"Everything's pointing to it, I'm afraid," I say, just as somber. "They _did_ say 'rabbit' and 'Woo Foo'. So that's your brother, alright."

Sighing deeply, Yin darts her face towards the floor. It's not the statement she wants to hear, but it's the one she _has_ tohear. And saying it isn't any easier, either.

Yin and I sit down on the couch, nearing each other. As father and daughter. Trying to find solace in one another after what we had just witnessed. Being right beside her calms me to a degree. The chaos in my mind clears up from just having her lean on me.

A moment passes where neither of us say a thing. Soon, Yin sits up and gazes at the wall. "You're hiding something from me, aren't you?"

So much for my serenity. I lean forward, clasps my paws together and breathe. I keep silent before opening my mouth, but find myself interrupted. For the first time, Yin is imposing herself on me. She isn't having any of it, whatever 'it' is supposed to be. I mean, I _am_ complying with her.

"Don't even try to deny it, Dad," she states, directing her gaze at me. Her hard-willed expression. "Tell me! Please."

I've always wanted to get it out of my chest, but can't bring myself to out of fear of reliving those mistakes. Now, I have no other choice. The best that I can do is brace myself for the hurt that's about to come.

Swallowing my pride, I take yet another breath and say in a soft, meager tone, "It's my student."

"What _about_ Yang?" asks Yin, misunderstanding.

"No, this isn't about your brother. Or you." I rub the bridge of my nose to keep my fortitude from failing and finally face my daughter. My voice only gets slightly louder, but now it takes on a more sacred tone. "This is about a student that I've had long before you and Yang." Already, it's hard. No, I have to press on. I have to do this. "Lupin."

"What? You mean like that anime about some kind of crook or con artist?"

I giggle a tad at her question and correct it as soon as I stop. "No, not that. I mean that wolf person Yang brought up. Y'know, the one he said he was looking for."

"Oh."

"He was my student. The first and best I ever had. The one I had treasured the most. He was like a son to me. The son I never thought I'd have."

"How did you two meet?"

I smile a short smile. "I was getting to that."

Memories come flowing back into me, at intervals under my control. As word after word slides from my lips, my tongue, these images take shape.

 _This is the Woo Foo dojo many years ago, on a cloudy, rainy afternoon. The sun loses out to the mass of nimbi in the sky on a nine-to-one scale, with not the slightest glimmer able to pierce through the rain._

"I found him all alone at the doorstep of the dojo, a mere puppy wrapped tightly in a blanket. You should have seen him, he had the cutest little snout and pair of ears you'll ever see. What kind of heartless bastard leaves behind a precious, tiny thing all on his own? Anyway, there was a huge downpour back then. Poor guy was crying, practically freezing to death. Anyone within spitting distance could hear him loud and clear. So I brought him into the dojo. I thought about giving the kid a name. Looking at him gave me a bit of a biology lesson. I was inspired by his species, his genus. That's how I came to 'Lupin', and I swore to myself to take good care of him. To raise him up as if he were my own, shape him into something strong and proud. Those were the happiest days of my life. Well, _some_ of the happiest days."

I rubbed my daughter's head gently, and she giggles.

"So what happened next?"

"Well, with me being a Woo Foo Master and whatnot, and this place being a dojo and all, I figured 'why not teach him a few things?' So I took him under my wing, taught him, trained him, to be a fine Woo Foo Knight."

 _Much time had come and gone. I see Lupin at the age of six, donning a white Woo Foo gi, in the midst of his training, and me overseeing the routine with folded arms and scrutinizing eyes. Over the years, the precious, little pup I encountered upon my doorstep had grown into a fine, handsome and aspiring young boy. His regimen consisted of breaking blocks of wood, reading our olden art's many scrolls and books, improving on his form and spellcasting. Among other exercises._

"The years went on, and Lupin had become one of the finest Woo Foo Knights I've ever seen in my life. What would normally take one person decades to master, he has learned most of it in his childhood. A prodigy, indeed."

 _Next to come is a new sequence of images. Blissful, perfect images of him and I together. Each scenario is different from the last. Each one glows with warmth. Lupin's first bicycle ride and me treating a scrape on his knee. A typical Saturday afternoon where I helped him with his fighting stance. His eighth birthday, where I had gotten him his very own acoustic guitar and he played cacophonic sounds on it. A typical Thursday night, with him falling asleep on his desk whilst working on a homeschooling assignment, and me gently ushering him to his bed. And last but not least was the two of us on the front lawn, watching a particularly wonderful sunset from a distance. Side by side, glad to be together._

 _Every one of those moments, I had put away in the depths of my mind, my heart, for safe keeping. Like all good things in the world, they had to come to an end somewhere down the road. How they came to an end, I didn't know. I didn't remember. But I wish they didn't._

"I gave Lupin every last piece of me. I gave him my life, my love, you name it. Watching him grow, being with him every step of the way, it filled a gap in me that no amount of food could ever fill. He was the most beautiful thing I ever saw. He was a remarkable martial artist and an even greater person. He lived and breathe the art of Woo Foo. I've never felt more content or more proud."

My lips shape into a smile as I utter every one of these sentences. I shut my eyes briefly and envision him there, looking ahead. Looking over his shoulder and right at me, with his cheerful smile. I keep the daydreaming short, however, and glance quickly at Yin and then revert my face back to normal.

"Sadly, there's no happy ending to this," I continue, my chest encumbered. "It began when he was eleven. Lupin had achieved the _Grandmaster_ Rank, the only Woo Foo Knight in existence to ever do so. Being a Grandmaster meant you displayed not only peerless aptitude, but also amazing strength of character. He had come back after travelling to different parts of the world to spread word about Woo Foo. You could see the passion for our art in those eyes of his. He was the whole package. But…" I let the word dangle for a bit, my will to speak slipping.

"But what?" Yin prods, curious about my tale.

"I'd reaped what I'd sown, so to speak."

 _A new wave of memories crashes in. These recollections are a few that I don't want to revisit._

 _It was four years after. Lupin, now fifteen years old, was at his prime. My dearest student had blossomed. He trained day after day, honed his skills, his senses. He has faced battle after battle, trial after trial, hardship after hardship. He had come so far, and only knew how to move forward. Nothing was stopping him._

 _Then that afternoon came. So much could happen in so short a span of time. He was training and I was there to oversee him, as always. It felt…coarse. It was unpleasant. I knew it just from observing him. His moves were executed ferociously, with little to no precision. They brimmed with emotion. Raw emotion. Anger. Bloodlust. Hatred. Wrath. It made the earth under my feet quake. The resounding, blood-curdling yells matched his movements so well. I had to intervene._

 _I approached him and grabbed his arm before he could fling a ball of dark blue flame. I then sat down on the grass and urged him to join._

"It was just a typical afternoon for the two of us. Me looking out for him as he trained. He told me he had a new regimen he wanted to try, and I was curious to see what it looked like. So he practiced, and I watched. There was something off about him then. I felt it in those punches, those kicks and those spells. I'd never seen him act that way before. So angry, so bitter. I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to stop him. Of all the lessons that I taught him, I had left out the one about not using Woo Foo in anger."

"I guess Yang and I aren't the only ones guilty of that."

"There's a passage in the scrolls about that." At that instant, a scroll materializes in thin air before us, fully unfurled. Levitating. I look into the paper to search for that passage, my finger landing on the first word. "Let's see… Here it is: 'The fool who seeks and lives only by power shall find only devastation in every waking hour'. I tried to tell him this, and…" It's getting harder and harder to speak. To let the burden out of my chest. It's starting to ache.

"And?"

No, I can't let up now. Hopefully this'll be over soon. "He protested against me. Said that he had a very good reason for doing what he did."

"What exactly got into him?" Yin's voice is now as solemn as mine.

"Apparently, during his travels, Lupin came across some…unpleasant company, to say the least. Thought he was some kind of nut job for spreading word about Woo Foo. He made up his training routine as a way to 'broaden his horizons'"—I punctuate the phrase with a pair of air quotes—"to prove to people what Woo Foo could do. To bring glory to his art. But what he was doing then, that was anything _but_ Woo Foo. I don't even know what the hell it was. Sorry."

I cover my mouth with my finger following the slight profanity. Yin shakes her head, allowing me to continue.

"The two of us bickered. I told him that he didn't have to turn down a wayward path. That just because some people aren't too fond of what we practice, it doesn't mean he should have this…obsession. It was one argument after another, and it only got worse. When he'd had enough, he told me that I was just a 'crusty, backwards old grump who didn't give a damn about anything'. And my response was that he was 'pompous, arrogant and ignorant'. 'An idiot so caught up in his manias to even face reality'."

"How did he take it?" asks Yin with a sudden urgency. She's so invested, so engrossed. But she doesn't even see the toll each word, syllable, sentence I say takes on me.

"Pretty badly. Obviously, I didn't mean what I said. I was just upset, disappointed." I don't know why, but I leave out 'scared'. I was. "I guess he meant what he said, though, because he packed his stuff and ran away two weeks later."

There's no backing down now.

 _Another unwanted slideshow commences. They illustrate the falling out between me and Lupin, each picture showing us two arguing, disagreeing with the other's ideals. The next portion of the slideshow is from three months later. In those three months, I hadn't heard from Lupin at all. Not even in a rumor. It was almost like he just vanished without a trace._

 _Then the time came where the Night Master had put into motion his world domination agenda. His army against an army of Woo Foo Knights. I never forgot how devastated I was to find out who had joined their ranks. It was none other than Lupin himself. My former student, my greatest treasure. He was a much different person since the last time I had seen him. He had tapped into a forbidden power. Power that only a fool would chase after. He was no longer the compassionate, virtuous canine I had raised. He stood before me, before my colleagues, as an enemy. If hearts could shatter like glass, then I swore I heard mine breaking into a million pieces when I met eyes with him._

Truth be told, I don't have the heart in me to describe any of this to my daughter. I don't want to say any of this at all.

"The next time I saw him was during our war against the Night Master's forces. He was one of them now. He had embraced a power only the Night Master could offer." That was what I believed anyway, and still do. "My precious student, nothing more but another adversary to put down." I tilt my head downwards and shut my eyes, my face straining from saying all of this. From pushing tears away.

Having listened to me up to this point, Yin's face is just as heartbroken. It's not as easy to listen to as it is to explain. She leans against me and entangles me with her arms. She doesn't see me this open, this vulnerable, very often, but when she does, she just drops any inkling to crack a joke at my expense.

"So did you…"

Swiftly, I respond before she can even complete her question. "Yes, we fought. As I traded blows with him, I thought about what he told me before he left. How he said that I had nothing to live for, that I didn't give a damn about anything. One glance into his eyes, and I finally realized that I _had_ something to live for. I didn't even know how much he truly meant to me until it was too late. I squandered the greatest gift I had ever been given. And because of that, I lost everything."

Again, I close my eyes, and for a second there, I almost cry. I _do_ cry. That sure took a while. About time that I did.

If I could turn back time, I would do it in a heartbeat. I would undo every mistake, every injustice that I have ever committed against him. But the world does not work that way. Words, thoughts, actions, none of them can be taken back. Once they're enacted, you can't retract them. There are only consequences. And no one can say that they have it worse than I do.

A fraction of my will restored, I open my eyes and wipe them clean. "In the end, I knew he was still my student. I couldn't bring myself to just kill him."

"What did you do?"

 _One final wave of memories to go. The battle between both parties was fierce. It was nip and tuck. Dead even. All because of Lupin; if he were on our side, then our victory would have been guaranteed. Alas, he and I were locked in combat instead. He had put up a better fight than I had expected. He had anticipated every single one of my tactics while staying unpredictable with his. Eventually, I was overpowered, and he had knocked me off of my feet._

 _I wasn't going down that easily. I still had my last resort. As he crept close to me, I raised my arms to the sky, distributing my energy towards them. A large glyph formed just above the palms of my hands. My comrades distanced themselves from the spell I was preparing._

 _My sets were sight on Lupin and no one else. It had to be done. I accepted the harsh fate he would have to endure and the nightmares that were to follow after carrying out this unhappy deed. I threw my arms at Lupin and flung the glyph over his head. From its center, a ray of light burst and shot to the clouds. Lupin was screaming, yelling in pain, a hole tearing open under his feet; as I had hoped, the Pit was right beneath us and it gave way just in time for me to seal him in it. His screams did not stop, even as he was being swallowed by the cavernous hole._

 _All that I could do was watch. Grief entered my heart. The fearsome spell was sealing the hole back and conveniently disguising itself._

 _It was over._

The last of my tears slithers out my eye. I can finally continue without any interruptions. "The closest thing to an act of mercy as you can get. The Woo Foo binding spell: _Mugen Shirushi_."

" _Mugen…Shirushi?_ " asks Yin, hearing the name for the first time.

"Or Infinity Seal, if you prefer that. It's the ultimate form of negation in Woo Foo. It binds evil in any and all forms it takes. Only a Woo Foo Master is able to use this spell; anyone of a lesser rank and experience runs a bigger risk of losing his or her aura trying to use it."

"And you used it to put him away?" she says with caution, hitting the nail on the head. Empathizing.

I hesitate on my answer to that. "Yup. For a hundred years. One hundred long, agonizing years."

I've been running from this problem for so long. Escaping it in the lost hope that it will vanish. Somewhere along the road—I don't know the exact point it happened—I was convinced that it was over. That it had ended after locking Lupin away in the Pit. Whether I was a terrible teacher and father figure, just plain irresponsible or completely disregarded what was supposed to be the most precious thing to me, it was a moment of helplessness for me.

Mistakes are made by everyone, no exceptions. They happen to strengthen us. So that we may either learn from them or undo them. Given my circumstances, I was not able to do either one. I was just afraid. Just too young. Scared that I'll make these mistakes again.

Yin stands from the sofa and sees my disheartened face.

But now that the circumstances are different, so too might be the outcome. The wrongs that I have done by my former student, I can make right with my current ones. My two rabbit children.

I look deep in her eyes, and I can tell that she wants to help me. She and Yang have always helped me keep my footing. Helped me overcome the trials that I've faced.

"So this situation with Lupin," she says, trailing off to ponder. Her voice mirroring a renewed resolve. "Are you saying that what happened to him, it's like that with Yang now?" The wind around us grows somber.

"I hate to say it. If your brother really did have those dreams he said he had, then it has to be the case. Somehow, someway, Lupin is tied into this."

"Then I can't waste any more time. I need to get out there while I still can," my daughter declares, putting a clenched fist against her chest.

There's that resolve, again, now fully restored. A telling harbinger that I'm on the right track this time around. The resolve that I should have had a long time ago. I know I had it in me before, but I must have lost it. If only I can get it back.

With her courageous claim, Yin hurries out of the living room to prepare herself.

"I'm coming with you," I say to her.

She freezes in place and then spares a wistful look at me. "Sorry, Dad, but I'm going to have to ask you to stay put."

"What?"

"This is between me and my brother. I mean, if it weren't for me, he wouldn't be in this mess in the first place." She lowers her head in shame.

"Sweetie, I'm responsible for this, too."

"No, Dad. You're not." Yin looks up and faces me, beaming to soothe me. "Not this time."

"But—"

"You might have put Yang in a corner, but I'm the real instigator between the two of us. I've always been the instigator, and I need to make it right. So please"—she places her paw on my shoulder—"just leave it to me. I can hold my own just fine; you _did_ train me, after all. If anyone here needs to get through to him, it's his sister."

I'm reluctant to let her out there. To release her into the open. I'd be no better than a shepherd offering a lamb to the slaughter. With the threat that Yang poses and the potential added danger of Lupin into the fray, it's too great a risk to take.

Her hold on my shoulder is soft, but tightens a little to get my attention. Her gentle smile belies the determination I've seen not a second ago. It sends me a message. This is a sibling affair. A matter between brother and sister. The smile also tells me that she understands. That if she were Lupin, she'd forgive me.

Flashing a grin back at her, I take her arm into my hands and plant a kiss upon her forehead. I hold her by her cheeks and lean my head on hers, our eyes locked together.

"Be careful out there," I whisper.

Yin nods slowly and turns on her heels.

Before she completely leaves my sight, I stop her in her tracks, renewed in spirit. Renewed from her tempered will.

"Yin," I say, looking over the backrest of my sofa. "I want you to take everything I've told you to heart. The things we take for granted are often the ones most important to us, and you won't realize that until after they're gone. Promise me that you'll cherish your brother always. Remember that someone like him comes only once in a blue moon. And if you really cherish him, you won't ever turn your back on him. Be by his side the way I never could with Lupin."

She tilts her head downwards, drawing strength from my words. She flashes a vigorous smile and nods. "Got it. I'm not going to give up on him! And if I'm lucky, I just might run into Lupin, too, and bring him back, as well."

I don't respond to that last claim, but deep down I appreciate it. She picks it up from my silence. "I better hurry! He could still be here. I can't miss him!"

Without a shadow of a doubt, she rushes off, heading downstairs, towards the Armory.

I look on until she's no longer visible. I breathe and smile wearily, somewhat self-assured. I can't rest just yet. Anything can go wrong, especially in an ordeal such as this. I need to take action myself. If my old student really is out there, then I can't miss him, either.

Even if it means losing my life, I want to see him again.

* * *

"Let's see… What should I bring with me?"

The Woo Foo Armory. There's no telling how many times I've been down here. Of course, it's not always of my own choosing. Half of the time, I go here simply because of my brother; he's the one more keen on going into this place. Now, I actually have a good reason for being here.

Some of these 'weapons' are too odd, too outlandish, to be called such. I mean just look at them! An adult diaper and safety pin that grants gargantuan strength? A bow tie and a pair of suspenders? A red rubber nose? A toilet brush that brings forth light? An impervious sundress? It's easy to see why people think of our martial art as a joke. They have their uses, but they don't actually spell 'threatening'.

All of these items are contained in their respective glass cases. If I'm going to have to face my brother, I need to be well-prepared. None of these are going to make the cut. I need something that really catches my eye. Something that I can call my own. An _actual_ weapon, one that can get the job done.

Deeper into the armory I go. The light in these parts is dimmer than the rest of this place. Not only that, but there seems to be a pervasive chill that nips my skin and makes my fur clench together. The farther I venture, the lower the temperature dips. I wander around this one room, making out whatever I can in the limited light I'm given. From the ceiling to the floor to the beams that hold the dojo in place.

A new set of weapons appear before me. This time, they _look_ like actual weapons. Swords, knives, bows and quivers of arrows, quarterstaffs, brass knuckles, and several more in between that might be eluding me.

No. These won't do either.

An inch further in, and I stumble upon a mist. A bank of cold air that masks something from the naked eye.

"Huh?"

Closer I draw myself to this shroud. My fur grows moist from every step I take. No, I'll worry about drying off later. I'm nearing the source of this icy cloud. I must be, because it's getting thicker. Denser. Harder to see. The chill pierces my skin and rests upon my bones. It isn't exactly absolute zero, but I'm freezing.

There _is_ one thing I can do.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I lower my head and focus. I take a deep breath and channel everything I've got into my paws. They start glowing.

I whisper, as soft as a feather. "Woo Foo…Gale!" I spread my arms wide open, releasing a gust from both of my paws that dispels the chilling air. Most of it.

Where the mist used to be is its source. _The_ weapon I'm looking for. It sparkles, glistens in a clear blue. Even after I've defogged its chill, it continues to cough out tiny jets of cold air.

A katana rumored to be made of the most impervious ice that cannot be melted by any means whatsoever, said to bestow its wielder with absolute affinity over this particular element. The scabbard it is concealed in, also made of a durable, blue material.

This is one of the legendary _Kami no Gofu_ , or Woo Foo Talismans.

"The Snow Flower…" I say to myself, reading the inscription on the base of the display case aloud. The disbelief in me manifests through my wide-eyed leer.

Arctic Whisperer: 雪の花 – _Yuki no Hana_. Or 'Snow Flower'. That is what's written on the metallic plate. Bringer of snowstorms and long, enduring winters.

Only one question remains to be answered. Actually, there are two. The first is how the heck am I going to get this thing out of its display case? Second, how am I going to use it?

I manage to answer question number one by levitating the case with my magic and gently setting it down on the side. Now that I have the weapon in my possession, there's one thing left to do.

In order to even be able to use these Talismans, an incantation must be invoked to release the seals that bind them. These restrictions were put into effect to prevent the wrong hands from ever using them, which might explain why our foes from the past haven't bothered going after them.

I take a deep breath, close my eyes and focus on nothing else. "Woo Foo Elders, far and near. Hear my most fervent pleas loud and clear," I start, my heart beating harder than it was a while ago. "Arctic Skies and Frozen Wind. I recognize this strength of mine that lies within. As I speak these words of resolution, bestow unto me the power…" Before I finish the final sentence, I spare a momentary glance at the shine that emanates within the scabbard. This is my determination taking shape. "…of the Woo Foo Talisman: Snow Flower!"

A brief flash of light passes by as small shards of crystal hover in a glittering sound; the bind that secures the katana has been shattered. I unsheathe the sword and gaze at my reflection on it. I can't believe I actually did that. I can feel my power growing, my mind, my body and my spirit stimulated.

But still, apart from memorizing the incantations for these weapons back and forth, I don't have much experience in using them. I've never used one at all.

For a while, I focus on Snow Flower alone and take up a stance with it. I get a taste of its power and slice the air in front of me, and small snowflakes emerge in the wake. What am I being worried about? This shouldn't be a problem. I mean, what's another Woo Foo artifact to me? I'm a fast learner, and I'll pick up on how to properly use this in the heat of battle.

That reminds me, I have to get going. I've wasted enough time just retrieving this blade. If I'm lucky, I might just be able to catch up to him.

I pay one last glance to the glass casing on the side of the room and say, "Sorry, Dad. Desperate times and all. I'll bring it back once this is over."

As I hurry out of the Armory, a myriad of thoughts spring to my mind.

Yang. This isn't the first time we've been entangled in a scenario like this. Last time, it was me who had fallen into the dark. He and I swore to always be each other's saving grace. The one to pull us back to the right path whenever we veer away from it. He's done that for me, but will I be able to bring him back the same way he brought me back?

There's only one way to find out. I race up the stairs and out of the Armory, my resolve hardened and tempered. There's no turning back now.

"Big brother, wait for me. I'm going to be there for you, just like you were there for me."


	12. Brother and Sister

_**Calamity Hoppers ~Reprise~**_

 **by Christopher R. Martin**

Chapter 12 – Brother and Sister

* * *

The walls of fire continue to roar across the town in the wake of his wrath. Left and right, vehicles have been overturned, some of them set ablaze as a result. Everywhere he turns, there is at least one building that has been decimated. No one remains in this side of the town. No one except for him.

Amidst the chaos is the blue Woo Foo rabbit Yang, cloaked in a deep violet jacket that conceals his martial artist's gi underneath. Carrying with him his handpicked instruments of power: the Governor's Blade and the Woo Foo Grimoire. His eyes bear a vapid gaze as cold as the night sky, yet belie a blaze in him that is as hot as the towering flames around him.

He walks along the desolate ground and revels in the carnage, his repeated opening and closing of his fist in perfect sync with his heavy breaths.

"That oughta do it," the rabbit remarks, inhaling every bit of the demolished district. Observing it thoroughly.

In spite of the destruction he has brought forth, there are no actual casualties. Only injuries that range from minor to life-threatening. This rampage is only to make a point. To send a message to the masses. The Woo Foo Knight Yang that the people of this town knew has become so much more. Judging by how much damage was done, he rests assured that this message has been delivered and received, loud and clear.

He proceeds to the town's local park and assesses the pain that has been persisting in his right arm for some time now. This is the third wave today, and it shoots from his arm towards his body as quickly as the prior two.

"Ungh! Damn it," cries Yang in a pained grunt, clutching his wrist to diminish the hurt somehow. It seems to work, as the pain soon dwindles into a sensation that quickly dies away. For now… His breaths leave his mouth in an even and careful cadence as he brings his arm close to his chest. "Come on, Yang. Pull it together. You want this. You want this more than anything else in the world."

His thoughts start to stir in his mind as he says this reminder to himself. The warnings of his master Lupin rang clear in his ears. There is a price to be paid for harnessing something as forbidden as the power of Fog, the unseen remnants of the Infernal Beast.

Lupin had told him stories of the very few Woo Foo Knights who sought out strength like this. Of the even fewer who successfully took in the invisible substance, not a single one of them could subvert the untimely fates that awaited them. In exchange for this higher power, the sanity and morals of a person had to be relinquished.

Yang knew of the consequences and instilled them in his heart, which was why he had been given the option to turn back if he wanted. Even knowing these consequences and risks, the temptation was too strong for the rabbit child to resist. The desire to become stronger, better, to be recognized for his own merits instead of being measured up to his sister's and father's, had driven him down this path.

Yet little does the boy know that what his heart desires is the same thing that _takes_ his heart away… With every waking hour that fleets by, he is pulled farther away from the light.

For him, however, no price was too steep, no repercussion too grave…

* * *

 _With any luck, I can still make it_ , I encourage myself to prevent that tiny little glimmer in me that I call 'hope' from fizzling into nothingness. Keeping my hold on my newly-acquired sword firm, I do not stop moving for even a fraction of a second.

Yang… Where could he be?

Dusk has already settled upon this town, evident in the now darkened skies. The streets are illuminated by only a few streetlights; the rest of them have been put out of commission during the skirmish that took place earlier – a testament to the strength that my brother now possesses. I have looked high and low for him, scouring every place that I am familiar with, and up to now, my search yields nothing. No luck whatsoever.

After practically running around in circles, I think that a short rest is in order, so I find the nearest bench to sit on and take a seat on it. During this short respite, I put into consideration every possible outcome and end up taking longer than I thought I would.

When I think about it, I suppose that Yang and I are both running around in circles. Maybe this large-scale attack is his way of provoking me into action. It's basically him saying 'come and get me' in as grandiose a way as he can. If it is, then it's working. And if it is, then I can only assume that he's out there somewhere, looking for me just like I'm looking for him. This could be just us being at the wrong place at the wrong time. We keep missing each other again and again, and we could be going at this and never reunite.

If that really is the case, then I'd be frustrated right about now. Actually, scratch that, I already am. I kick a nearby pebble off to the side to get some of that frustration out of my system, and I watch as it skids away to the nearest hulking flame.

"This is getting me nowhere," I groan, reclining across the bench with my legs crossed and my head resting against my paws. What used to be a sweltering determination is swiftly degrading into impatience. And that impatience in turn declines into discouragement, which itself would eventually become flat-out hopelessness.

It almost does, but one thing I do keeps it from going that far. I stare at my right arm, at the cheap, inexpensive bauble that dangles there.

" _Step right up, ladies and germs. You know you want to. No one can resist this. I know I can't. If you think you've got the muscle, then there ain't no better opportunity to show it off than with a good ol' fashioned test of strength. Only five buck a pop. What do you say? Nothing ventured, nothing gained, that's what I say."_

 _The town street fair, an annual event held during the first day of spring. Jam-packed with food, attractions and rides for people of all ages. So far, this year marked the twelfth time that this event was put together._

 _My brother, my master and myself were among the regular patrons of the fair, trying out every attraction that was on display, going on every ride we could and stuffing our faces with as much food as there was on offer. The latter applied more to Master Yo than either of us twins._

 _We walked amidst a dense crowd of people, the three of us. Attendance for the fair was plenty, but it wasn't anywhere close to the biggest. That record had to go to the tenth year, when the entire fair spanned more than three quarters of the town and almost every citizen was present and accounted for, even the adversaries we used to face in the past. Not to mention the plethora of activities that was available for everyone to do._

 _To the slight disappointment of most of these people, half of these attractions did not make a return this year. That didn't mean there wasn't enough for our family to do._

 _Especially considering that Yang had heard one of the management people hollering out to the crowd like the siren of an ambulance. He saw the man screaming about a strength test, and the second he laid eyes on the attraction, his eyes were set aglow. They showed that gleam people know my brother for. A gleam of determination. A gleam that said 'I've got something to prove, and I'm going to prove it, whether you like it or not'._

" _Well, look at this," said the man as he leaned against his sign. "Aren't we the eager little go-getter? Wanna take a swing at it, kid?"_

" _Do I ever?" Yang answered, rubbing his paws together. "Let's do this."_

 _I grabbed him by the arm and yanked him, unsure of what he has in store. "You're not going to use your Woo Foo to win, are you?"_

" _Now what makes you think that, sis?"_

 _Our master inserted himself into our conversation whilst munching on a roasted corn cob. "Well, for one thing, you have that devious look on your face again," he stated in an unapproving manner. "The same one that's gotten you into trouble so many times before."_

" _You're saying that like I have some ulterior motive or something."_

" _Yang, I'm being serious," said Master Yo, speaking more as a father than as a master. Come to think of it, this year also marked the first time all three of us went as a family. "We've already had this discussion. Using Woo Foo for personal gain should be beneath you now that you and your sister are Grade Two Knights."_

 _Yang rolled his eyes. He always disliked being patronized, especially by me. It was all the more reason why I kept getting a kick out of making his life harder than it needed to be._

 _To be honest, I would have too; our master wasn't one to talk, considering that he was guilty of the same thing back when he was young. At least, that's what I told myself. He wouldn't have gained this particular wisdom otherwise._

" _Oh, please," my brother boasted. "Woo Foo or no Woo Foo, this is going to be a cinch. Besides, I'd be cheating if I_ were _using my Woo Foo."_

" _Come on, people. I've got a business to run here," the management guy interjected, having watched our chatter since it started. "What's it gonna be?"_

 _The determination now burning fiercely in him, Yang pounded his fist into his palm and grabbed the mallet resting on the strength test. He fished his inner pocket to retrieve some loose change to give to the man. "Here, that should be enough."_

" _You get one chance, kid. Make it count."_

 _These words were embedded in my brother's mind as he brought the mallet up into the air and over his shoulder. All he had to do was slam that plank to send the metal puck rocketing to the top of the twenty-foot tower. Simple on paper, yet difficult in execution. As Yang was about to find out._

 _At first, he had some difficulty. He and the mallet were more or less of the same height, which automatically made lifting it hard enough. After a few seconds have come and gone, he did eventually keep himself steady and focused._

 _His strength gathered, he sent the mallet crashing into the plank. The puck rose higher and higher and higher up the tower. One foot. Two feet. Three. Four. Five. Six. I was shaky with anticipation; I honestly believed that Yang was going to hit that bell_ without _the aid of his Woo Foo._

 _But it turned out that I was wrong. Eight feet. That was how far the puck had made it before it came crashing back down. Only two-fifths of the way._

 _The look in my brother's eyes could be summed up in one word: empty. Like something had been plucked out of it. Something that gave it the life, the spark, the energy, that kept him going. I didn't think I'd ever seen him this devastated, or was capable of such a feeling. He slunk to his knees, the mallet dropping to his side on the grass._

 _The next thing I heard were pounding noises from the earth beneath my feet. Yang was beating his paws against the hard, solid ground until they ached. I also heard his voice rising from a murmur all the way to a frustrated shout._

" _Shit…shit, shit, shit, Shit!" The disappointment was crushing him, and soon enough it was crushing me, too. "I had it. I swear to God, I had it." He wasn't sobbing or wailing, but he might as well had._

 _At that point, I didn't have the heart in me to point at him, laugh and draw a crowd. It was bad enough that Yang's pride had been wounded, but I wasn't going to make it even worse. Besides, he already had that covered; he was starting to draw a crowd around us._

 _Speaking of pride, I thought to myself that his came from the fact that he and I were unlike other kids of our age. We were molded by the teachings of our sage and knowledgeable master and forged in the field of battle. Conflict was our whetstone, and the flames that it was engulfed in had tempered us. If Yang could overcome some of the fiercest enemies to emerge from this side of the world, then there was no reason that he would fall short in a mere high striker. There was no reason he couldn't hit that bell._

 _Rather than ruin whatever dignity my brother had left, I knelt down and put a paw on his shoulder whilst rubbing his back with the other._

" _Hey," I said to him soothingly, softening my countenance. "You did pretty well. Don't beat yourself up over it." I went from rubbing his back to patting it, as well as his head._

" _Tch. Easy for you to say," Yang rebuffed, averting his eyes away from mine._

 _The man in charge of the high striker stepped in, gazing down on the two of us. "Your sister's right, little guy," he said, aiding my brother back on his feet. "I don't get a lot of, erm… Ten? Thirteen? Fourteen? How old exactly are yo—"_

" _Twelve."_

" _Ah. Not a lot of twelve year-olds can make it all the way to six feet, let alone eight."_

 _Yang sighed, accepting the man's words. They made him feel somewhat better, but they weren't enough to fully relieve him._

" _Now then," the man continued, rummaging through the prizes that were up for grabs. "For your consolation prize. At least let me give you something for your troubles. What would you like?"_

 _This particular pile was comprised entirely of bracelets. When the man had Yang that, he quickly cringed a little. To him, he wouldn't be caught dead wearing one of these. They were probably cheap imports in his eyes, and I supposed that they were. Between the obvious plastic and the rhinestones that patterned them, it was obvious even to the untrained eye. That didn't make them any less beautiful, though._

 _Yang had absolutely nothing to say, but eventually pointed at one bracelet with cerulean rhinestones on it. 'Better than nothing' is what I assumed was on his mind. Giving the man his 'thanks', albeit a dry one, he rejoined me and our master, and the three of us took our leave._

 _As we walked, he passed the bracelet over to me. "Take it," he said, trying to empty his mind for the time being._

" _Huh?"_

" _It's yours," he added and tucked his paws in his pockets. "I'm sure you can put it to better use than I ever can."_

 _I couldn't help but crack a grin. Whenever Yang went full-on 'brooding' mode, I knew beforehand what his intentions were. It only meant one thing. As rough around the edges as my brother was, no one could deny that he cared about those close to him. He may or may not be aware of it, but his attempts at hiding his compassion only gave it away._

 _Now that I thought about it, the fact that love was his single greatest emotion—greater than even sarcasm, rudeness or even moral outrage—no longer surprised me. It was only fair that I repaid it many times over, even if it made him uncomfortable._ Especially _if it made him uncomfortable; the world needed to see more of this Yang._

 _Bearing that in mind, I charged at him in an attack-hug and squeezed him as hard as I could. "Thanks, big bro," I said while wearing a large grin on my face._

 _Though I didn't have my eyes on him, I could feel him rolling his out of annoyance. Or was it embarrassment? "Just let go of me, sis. People are watching."_

 _For the rest of the day, he kept on his aloof façade._

If I really _do_ cherish my brother, if I hold him dear to me the way my master told me to, then I should be revisiting these memories more often. I should look back at them from time to time to make them last a lifetime, if not eternity.

Finished with my reminiscing, I direct my focus on the town, which feels incredibly dead. Deader than disco. With every townsperson fled to safety, I'm forced to make do with all this rubble, all this debris, and even the flames, as my only company. At this point, my brother must have already left.

Maybe I should call it a day for now and try again some other time.

Or maybe I won't have to wait…

In the dead of this town, I hear footsteps approaching from a distance. I hear them as clearly as I hear these fires burning. As audibly as the towers of water rocketing from where the fire hydrants used to be. They slow down as an apparition materializes in the emptiness.

This person appears before me as a shadow. A silhouette, made obscure by the blazing wall behind it. I make out what it is— _who_ it is—from the shape alone. I fill out the rest of the details in no time. On a dainty, calculated saunter, I approach the figure.

It's him.

"Yang…" I say underneath my breath. As the name leaves my mouth and I draw closer, the rest of the features come into view.

It really _is_ him. My older twin brother. He is as he was shown in the breaking news bulletin. In his hand is a gargantuan, hulking slab of a sword that is just as large as he is, maybe even larger. On his back is a deep violet sweater, with tufts of white protruding from out of the sleeves – his Woo Foo gi.

Lastly, I see the glimmer of determination glinting in his eyes. It's just as I have always known it as, driven by a desire to prove himself. Except now, it's different. I search those eyes of his for the compassion, the kindness that I know he can show. But the more I stare into him, the more I realize that these qualities aren't there. Or if they _are_ there, they are buried many feet deep. And it would take a miracle to pluck them back out.

This is what comes with being persuaded into the dark. I would know that from my own experiences. From being pulled into the other side.

"Thank Foo you're alright," I say in as welcoming a tone as I can. Smiling at him so that I can ease him into a conversation. Bringing out the Yang I've always known may be a bit of a stretch, but I have to give it a try. "You really had me worried. You didn't give me and Dad a call even after you said you were. And I tried calling you, but that didn't do any good."

For a while, Yang doesn't seem to talk or do much of anything. He is unmoving. Silent. Still as stone. Then he lets out a guttural growl, and the first thing he says to me makes my very foundation quake.

"You…" It's as simple as that, but it's more toxic than any poison out there.

"Huh?"

"Why do you insist on being such a complete bitch?!" he shouts, baring his fangs at me.

"Yang!" I flinch, nearly letting go of Snow Flower in my hands.

Instead of answering my question, he ignores it and shapes his face into a glower. His fists tremble and he says to me coldly, "You just can't keep away, can you? Heh. Who am I kidding? You're always going to be the know-it-all between the two of us, and I'm always going to be the poor sap who takes your potshots up the ass. It's a cheap thrill for you. That's how it's been, and that's how it's always going to be."

"Yang…" I mewl, his statement siphoning my spirit from my system. I don't remember the last time I've seen him this mad. This angry and bitter. I don't know if he's ever been like this before. If this is only his first time, then I guess there's plenty more where that came from.

"For the record, I am sick to death of having to deal with your crap. I have always hated seeing you put yourself on a goddamn pedestal at my expense, and I've just about had it up to here with it. You might not have this figured out, so I'm drilling it into your thick, little, pretentious head!"

As my brother's talking, his voice builds up in volume. His utterance goes from a whisper to a soul-wrenching yell. And I think to myself that this can't be him. That this can't be where his chosen path leads.

Whether or not that may be the case, I am flabbergasted by what I'm seeing. What I'm hearing. "Yang!"

"Oh, gimme a break. 'Yang, Yang, Yang, Yang'. Can't you come up with something better?"

"What's gotten into you?!" I eventually snap back, preparing to draw my sword out of it sheath.

I expect him to answer this question, but he diverts his eyes from me and shuts them instead in a smug air. He stays this way for quite some time, and my prodding will not get him to talk.

Roughly a full minute has passed before I change up my words a little. "Are you _still_ mad at me? Is that what it is? If so, why don't we just talk it out?" That time, I ease up my grip on my hilt.

Everything that my brother has said so far stirs in my mind, and that is the most immediate conclusion I can come to. That's where I arrive because it seems the likeliest one to me. That one afternoon, that one dinner, where my master and I had put him on the spot. Even if it isn't the only factor, I'm one hundred percent sure that it _is_ a factor. That it does come into play for his decision to go down this road.

I can't say that I'm proud of making him feel this way. Of always being put on a pedestal, whether by others or by myself, at his expense. Pondering on this now, I'm more ashamed of them than ever.

After another half-minute of not hearing anything from my brother, I snap at him again and hunch down into a fighting position. "Answer me!" My eyes turn misty. Or they would have if I didn't suppress that urge.

Great. Of all the times I almost break into tears, it just had to be now. Did it really have to be like this?

Finally, he answers. "That's not what this is about."

"Then what _is_ this about?"

Yang chuckles once, his lips curling into a sneer. "To put it simply, I've been set free."

He rolls up the right sleeve of his jacket and raises his paw up so that I can see the glove wrapped around it. It is black like leather and has something adorned on it. It appears to be some kind of mouth or a jaw, with fangs jutting out from both ways.

Something about this glove rubs me the wrong way. I can feel it in my bones. A voice in me advises me to run away. That this glove, whatever it's supposed to be, is bad news. But seeing where we are at this point in time, I might not ever get another chance like this again.

"Take a good look, sis. This is power," he says, clenching his wrist tight. "Power beyond your wildest imagination. And it's in the palm of my hands."

"What is that?" I say, doing my best to hold my ground.

"The Woo Foo Grimoire. What else?"

"'The Woo Foo Grimoire'?" That's odd. Last I checked, a grimoire is supposed to be a book, not a glove. And I don't recall something like this being an artifact in our martial art.

What I do recall is my master's tale about his former student, Lupin. How he was practicing a new set of moves he had learned one afternoon, and how it wasn't Woo Foo at all. Maybe this glove is identical in that regard.

I don't know for sure, and I already have a lot on my plate. Between my brother being persuaded into the dark, the stories about a student that our master had before us, this chaos around me, I'm only just able to process all of this. Any more, and I might collapse.

"Eh, don't make a big fuss out of it," states Yang, "Wouldn't want you getting worry lines now, would we? All you need to know is that I'm so much more than I used to be. I'm a whole new Yang, and it's all thanks to this baby right here." He swipes his arm downwards, his sleeve unfurling around it.

His words sink into my mind. "This can't be happening," I barely utter. I do collapse. To my knees. Overwhelmed by my brother's statement. Inside my mind, I'm thinking one thing over and over, rephrasing it several times.

 _This has got to be a dream._

 _This can't be real._

 _Somebody. Anybody. Tell me this is a mistake. It has to be._

Then, as if it were some rude awakening, I see Yang drawing his sword and his glove amassing what I think is a type of gas or fume. Though I don't know what's going on, it prompts me to get back on my feet and stay on my guard.

His weapons primed and at the ready, he gets into position and then says to me without a hint of emotion, "Oh it is, Yin. You best believe it. This is the real deal. Now let me show you how real. En garde, bitch!"

After hearing him call me a 'bitch' for the second time in ten minutes, I come to realize that this _is_ the path he chose. That he has gone down it of his own choosing. It's all the more reason for me to bring him back. Still and all, the guilt for the things I've done to him persist. I'm not sure how or if it's going to get in the way.

With a fierce scream, he lunges at me, and I advance towards him, knowing beforehand of our ensuing violent exchange. Of the two of us meeting blades, trading blows in this battle.

A battle between brother and sister… A dispute that stretches past the boundaries of a typical sibling rivalry.

Most brothers and sisters tend to disagree with each other as often as they see eye to eye. It's just how it is. And all this bickering and arguing that happens between them just proves that at the end of the day, they will always have each other. They will still be siblings, now and forever.

But I doubt that there are brothers and sisters out there who have it worse than us. I doubt that their lives have ever been put on the line thanks to their disagreement. There may be people like that in the world, but I'm sure that there aren't that many of them. I wonder what those very few unfortunate people had to do, had to go through, to get themselves out of their predicament. I wonder what they had to give up to close the rift that separates them.

As for me and my brother, this one fight is a large enough window for me to see how wide the rift between us had become.

He and I trade blow after blow. Despite the weapons we carry, we don't rely entirely on them. The two of us exchange punches and kicks that rush across the empty air. Magic spells are shot back and forth between us. As fiercely as we deliver each of our attacks, they don't do any more harm to the town than what's already been done.

This battle has taken us out of our respective comfort zones. I think this is the most that I've ever made use of the might discipline of Woo Foo. Paws of Power, the Foo-nado, they are just a few of the skills that I employ. For what I used to believe was just dumb male violence, these techniques are taking a lot out of me just to perform them. Of course that's all because I hadn't given this side of our art a chance. I was quick to denounce them and stick to the side of Woo Foo that spoke to me louder. But still…

At the same time, I don't know if I should be pleasantly or fearfully surprised that Yang is more adept at the mystic discipline than I or our master give him credit for; blasts of fire, thunder and light shoot from his fingertips with the greatest of ease. And every spell he has used so far, he is in complete control of. The worst that can happen when casting Woo Foo magic is for one's focus to slip or be directed elsewhere, two things that Yang is guilty of on many an occasion. But here, he is as sound as he is when fighting with Woo Foo Might.

Our skirmish reaches new heights the second our swords come back into play. I draw mine from its scabbard and slash at him, but he guards himself with his. The size of his sword petrifies me at first, leaving me thinking how my own blade can ever be a match. But I had forgotten how sturdy Snow Flower's ice truly is. It is impregnable.

Not that it matters, because that brief bout of uncertainty costs me more than I expect.

Yang and I meet in a clash of our respective blades. We push against each other, and his eyes wash over my sword. His face is one of anger, then confusion, then curiosity, and last, amusement.

"Is that really…" he starts, scanning my sword thoroughly. He scoffs and curls his lips into a smile. " _Yuki no Hana_ , huh? Well, someone's desperate."

I hold my ground for as long as I can, pushing against him with every ounce of strength in my body. I try to summon some kind of ice-based attack to ward him off, but Snow Flower does not answer me.

When that doesn't work, I break out of our clash and stick with what I know best. With what I've tried already. Every spell, every move that I've used before, I use again, switching them up swiftly in the chance that one of them might just throw him off. Out of those spells and skills that I try, none of them involve the manipulation of ice.

Our fight lasts longer than I anticipated. Longer than I had hope. If there is anything that I can use to my advantage, such as a wall that I can springboard off of or a hiding spot that I can squeeze under, I use it. But there's only so many resources that I can turn to.

Yang's right: I _am_ desperate. Desperate to get him back, to make it out of here alive. That upper hand that I'm so futilely striving to get seems so far out of reach for me now. I don't even know why I'm still trying at this point.

The fatigue is starting to catch up on me, and I feel the full force of each of my brother's blows. Every punch, every kick, every slash and every magic spell he throws at me leave their mark. Lacerations are opening up on different parts of my body, oozing out drops of blood that gather rapidly on the asphalt. Each of these strikes serve as a glimpse into what this Woo Foo Grimoire is all about. What it really does, and why I should be scared out of my wits. These glimpses come together and assemble one great picture. A horrid one that I now wish I hadn't seen.

My newest attempt at an attack is a leaping roundhouse kick aimed for my brother's temple. He catches my foot, angles his own and then brings it across to my midsection hard. As the kick sends me tumbling across the ground, Snow Flower slips from my person and skids to the side. I reach for it even if it isn't working on me now. My eyesight is now painted crimson, as is half of my body. A heaping mix of dirt, bruises and blood.

Staring down on me with the eyes of a predator, Yang creeps close to me and unravels his glove. The mouth-shaped object on it opens up, as if it _were_ an actual mouth. A miniature twister whips up above the glove and enters it in mere seconds. I gather what little energy I have left to sit up and behold the spectacle that's unraveling.

The mouth seals up, and Yang looks at me dead in the eye. He clutches his other hand over the glove and breathes several breaths. Right now, I pose no challenge to him at all. He's only toying with me. I can see that very clearly.

"So this is the Woo Foo Grimoire, huh?" I comment, barely letting it out amidst my injuries. One cut below my left eye starts leaking blood, and I hurriedly seal it off to prevent any more from coming out.

"That's only the tip of the iceberg. I've got one more trick up my sleeve," he says, grinning slightly and crossing his arms over his chest. He shuts his eyes and when he opens them back, the pupils are gone. "Woo Foo AURA!"

"What?"

That's all I say about this. Nothing more.

The earth shakes. I can hear the glove, this 'Grimoire', screaming. Literally. Like it's its own being.

Drawing strength from his glove, Yang arches his back as he yells the most recognized technique in all of Woo Foo. Mere seconds later, he is enveloped by a large, glowing, burning, rabbit-shaped image made of spiritual energy. Tendrils of fur protrude from its contours, and its eyes are stuck in a perpetual squint. Any action that he does, the Aura mimics to a tee.

A fraction of my strength returns, and believing that it's better than nothing, I get back on my feet and behold the display of sheer power before me.

The Woo Foo Aura. The trademark skill of our martial art, the epitome of Might and Magic becoming as one. Knowing Woo Foo inside and out is necessary to beckon this power, but it's only half the battle. In order to call forth a Woo Foo Aura, genuine emotion and complete control are required. One must have a clear-cut conviction, something that one is striving for with his or her heart.

The reason my first attempt at summoning my Aura failed miserably was because I didn't know what I wanted to use that power for. Protecting the environment was one thing, but I wasn't specific enough. Not only that, but I couldn't prevent that desire, and in turn my Aura, from getting the best of me. From almost taking my life.

Seeing Yang summoning his own Aura without my aid has got me thinking. All this time, I was under the belief that the only thing he wanted in the world more than anything else was a good fight. Something, some _one_ , to hit. He loves the rush of the battle. He lives and breathes by it.

And this has just proven me wrong. How this Grimoire comes into play, I have yet to figure out. But I guess this proves that there's more to Yang than just wanting to satisfy his high. I know that he goes far deeper than this, but I never thought _this_ deep. There _is_ a conviction in that blue rabbit boy.

I guess it also goes to show that I know less about my own brother than I thought I did.

Some sister I am…

"Neat trick, huh?" Yang taunts. As he folds his arms, so does his Aura. "There's plenty more where that came from, but I think I'll save those for another day. Not that you're going to get another day, that is. What's the matter, Yinny? Scared?"

I cast my injuries aside, levitate my sword over to me and hold it by its hilt. "I'd be lying if I told you I wasn't," I say in between the groans that my wounds force from my mouth.

This Woo Foo Grimoire is something else, and it is frightening. I've never been this terrified. Such power, and it's injecting fear into my very core. I feel like I'm Pandora, and I've opened an entire box filled with wicked, unspeakable objects that the world isn't meant for. And these supposed 'other tricks' that Yang says he has under his belt, I don't even want to think about what they are.

As scared as I am, I can't let it hinder me. I have to make this encounter amount to something. I have to make it count. Whether or not it kills me, I'm going to bring my brother back.

Urging my battered body into an upright position, I hold out my right paw and channel a tiny ounce of energy towards it. That energy manifests into a small green pulse that I wave over my cuts and bruises. Gently I caress my paw across my body, and the pain is slowly dying off. It still hurts, but it will have to do for now.

I stare at my brother and strike my fighting poise.

Yang, standing at the center of his Aura, snickers at me. "Not giving up, huh?" he says, drawing his enormous blade, resulting in his Aura wielding its copy of it.

I'm a bit taken aback when he asks me this. He should know me by now; I can be just as stubborn as he is. My only answer to his question is to draw Snow Flower out, as pointless as it might be. I may not be able to use any ice-based skills or spells, but I can still use the sword itself.

Fed up with all the small talk, Yang points his sword at me and says, "See you in the afterlife, sis."

He dashes towards me, and our blades meet yet again. His gargantuan sword against my Snow Flower. I can't afford to make any more mistakes now; even the smallest of slip-ups will cost me the battle at this point.

Punch after punch, kick after kick, and spell after spell. I've more or less lost track at how long this fight has been going on. Yang is sure to be much stronger, faster, and more adept than I am. Now that he's called forth his Aura, the town is sustaining even more damage. Every hit that misses its mark is another sign that's bent out of shape. Another vehicle that's turned over. Another pothole created on the ground. At this rate, there won't be anything left of the town.

I have to end this somehow.

My sights set solely on my brother, I ready another spell in my hands. I pull one back and thrust it out. "Foo-lumination!"

The blast dazes him a bit, giving me the window I need to make a decisive hit. I leap at him, angle my sword and drive it towards the Aura's head. But it catches me before I can impale it. I try to break my sword free from its grasp, but Yang commands the thing to carry me close to him, and fear has now completely taken over me.

A chuckle passes through his lips, and they curve into a sinister smile. "Nice try, sis, but no dice," he mocks. He winds his other paw up and punches me with it, sending me flying, slamming into a building.

Some bones might have been shattered from the impact, I don't know. I guess not. I'm surprised I'm still alive after taking such a beating. A part of me simply will not quit. It stays valiant to the end. Maybe that's why I haven't died yet. Maybe that's why I'm still breathing.

Ungh! I can't get up… I can't even keep my eyes open. My consciousness is dwindling fast. I can see the darkness making its advances on me. My senses are deadening because of it. I just barely make out Yang approaching me with his sword in his paw. I barely see his murderous intent. And it's only him; he has dismissed his Aura.

Futile as it may be, I try to search him for any trace of the twin brother I used to know. I try to look past the killing instinct in his eyes and hope that I find something. A semblance, anything that reminds me of the old Yang.

But nothing's there.

Have I really lost him? Is this monster before me really him?

At times like this, where despair abounds, grace abounds even more to counteract it. I don't see any of that grace whatsoever.

Yang is now within an arm's reach of me. I brace myself for that final stab, for that finishing blow. Why can't he just get it over with already?

"Now then," he says, eyes dilated. He grabs me by the throat and lifts me up. "Time to end this." He readies his sword, and I close my eyes, my heart racing.

Something stops him at the last minute. A voice from out of nowhere keeps my brother from taking my life.

"Hold it right there!"

Yang wanders his eyes around to find the source of the voice. Another silhouette makes its entrance by leaping into the scene. Literally. He lands on his feet, holding his crouched position for a while, and then stands up. He makes his way towards us – a tall figure, punctuated by a long, flowing coat on its back.

I can't make out the face yet, but I think I have a good idea who it is. The canine-like traits give it away. The pointed, erect ears, the constantly flailing tail behind him, the long snout on his head.

As soon as he's within spitting distance of us and his identity comes into view, my suspicions are mostly confirmed. A wolf in his mid to late teens, his features fine and pronounced. Broad shoulders, a chiseled chest and torso, and a strapping face that's sure to win the hearts of many a woman out there. Hazel eyes are apparently a thing with the opposite sex nowadays. The scars across his body are just icing on the cake.

His putting his paw on my brother's shoulder seals the deal.

"Take five, Yang. That's an order," he instructs, persuading Yang to release me from his grasp and stow away his sword behind his person.

I flop to the ground and draw in as much air as I can. Some of my vision is restored, and I set my eyes on the enigmatic lupine standing tall in front of me.

"You're…Lupin," I barely manage to get that out.

"The one and only. That makes you Yin, correct?" My silence is all the answer he gets. "Your brother has told me so much about you. And I take it that old bastard you call 'master' or 'dad' told _you_ about me. I mean why else would you know who I am?"

I can't put my finger around it, but something about the way he asked that last question strikes me as curious. There's a bitterness behind how that sentence was spoken. As if absolutely nothing in this world means anything to him, not even his own existence. As if merely living is a burden in and of itself.

Then again, being confined in a bottomless hole can turn even the most cheerful soul jaded.

"Please excuse my student," Lupin continues. "He could use a bit more refinement. But you gotta admit, this boy shows promise. I can't wait to see what sort of Woo Foo Knight he'll become down the road. Well, considering who his teacher is right now, I have nothing but high hopes for him."

His prattle about unlocking Yang's hidden potential forces me to try and get back on my feet. There are horrid thoughts aplenty in my mind. Thoughts of what he will become if he continues down this path.

Yet a small portion of me sees no point in trying to stop my brother from chasing after what's in his heart. If I do that, I'm sure he'll see me less of a sister and more of a nuisance. I would go ahead and prove this part of me wrong, but its words carry some weight.

But it doesn't make me less scared. If anything, I'm more concerned than ever.

What is going to become of Yang?

"Anyway, here," Lupin speaks once more, crouching down and waving a paw emanating a glistening green light over my injuries. A healing spell. It doesn't feel as potent as I expect it would be, but it's enough to get the job done. My wounds aren't aching too badly now. He stops casting the spell and stands back up. "Now that you're somewhat patched up, I want you to send your master a message. Tell him this specifically: 'the prodigal son is back'. And this time, I'm going to personally drag his sorry ass to hell."

Lupin's hazel eyes are razor sharp daggers that sink past my skin and into my core. On the tongue of these blades, these very words have been engraved. By the way that he's staring at me, he is sincere with his threat. I am the only way he can have these words delivered to my master. And if I don't, there will be consequences.

Behind Lupin's back, Yang gazes at the distances, his long rabbit ears flickering erect. "Ah, shit. Lu, I'm picking up police sirens again," he begins, looking over his shoulder. "Should we high tail it out of here?"

"Yup, right now," says Lupin without a second thought. With his back turned to me, he utters, "Until the next time we meet, Yin."

This time, these words aren't spoken by an unfeeling, homicidal maniac. They don't seem like it at all. I guess he has it out only for Master Yo. That might explain why he showed me mercy just now.

With his farewells bidden, Lupin makes a run for it, jumping up onto the rooftops and traversing each one of them. Yang follows closely, catapulting himself up there on the walls. They leave without a trace.

I need to get out of here as well, but somehow I can't. The pain isn't that bad anymore, so why can't I move?

I can hear the police sirens blaring from afar. The cars close in, their lights blinking, policemen hollering orders and affirmatives as they scramble into the scene. Among them, I spot a blur of black and white. It's impossible to make out who it is now, so I just go by the sound of its voice.

"Yin… Yin. Yin!"

The darkness closes in and succeeds in swallowing me, and I fall into the abyss. An abyss called unconsciousness…


	13. Then, Now and Later

_**Calamity Hoppers ~Reprise~**_

 **by Christopher R. Martin**

Chapter 13 – Then, Now and Later

* * *

 _Seven o'clock. The moon gazed down upon the whole town with its myriad of stars in tow. I could feel another tepid evening looming in the horizon. And more often than not, these feelings of mine were right on the mark._

 _The Woo Foo dojo never really saw that much activity at night. My master and I were off doing our own thing unless a specific situation called for us to get together, like dinner time or whenever I was studying my lessons for the day. Other than that, most nights were uneventful._

 _That night was no exception. While my master was inside the dojo helping himself to whatever meal he whipped up for himself, I stayed out in the darkly lit backyard brushing up on my Woo Foo as always. Every punch I threw, every kick I flung, every spell I cast, I exerted more than one hundred percent of energy into. My mind was set on nothing else except to hone my skill, to push myself beyond my boundaries._

 _People across town often called me one-track minded because of my devotion, my obsession, to this martial art. I guess they had a point, but who the hell were they to judge? It wasn't like they themselves didn't have something they were overly fixated on. It wasn't like they didn't have something they really loved to the point where they'd give up every other part of their life just to focus on that one endeavor._

 _It was in times like this where I was able to perform at my absolute best. Without the prying eyes or the secret murmurs of passersby to throw me off. In some instances, I even preferred practicing my Woo Foo during this time of the day._

 _By the time that my training moved on to balancing, I started counting backwards. Although I was reciting the numbers out loud, I retained my focus on my form, holding still and never wobbling._

" _Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One."_

 _You could say that I was breathing out the numbers rather than saying them._

 _Seeing how well I was doing, I decided to hold my pose for an additional thirty seconds. I raised the bar higher and higher upon meeting the quota over and over again until I would reach a full ten minutes._

 _At least, that's what I was aiming for. In the midst of my regimen, I sensed another presence besides my own in the backyard. There were no footsteps, no rustling sounds coming from the grass, or any other kind of indication. Not that I needed them, anyway. This was no sixth sense or anything like that. This was just my sharpened senses doing their thing._

 _Whoever this person was approached me gingerly, knowing, seeing how deep in concentration I was. I didn't mind it at all. It wasn't like this person could break my focus._

" _Even now, you're still practicing. Why am I not surprised?"_

 _Channeling my strength to the leg I had been balancing on, I somersaulted out of the pose and faced the person in question. A beautiful fox girl that is a year my junior, dressed in a simple attire consisting of a collared shirt and quite the short skirt. I heard that this sort of fashion was a big thing over in Japan. The things that teenage girls wear, I swear._

 _This fox girl had her arms folded and stared at me with a grin that I know all too well. I had seen it so many times ever since the day she first entered this dojo. When the two of us were just at the start of the adolescent stage, when my master and I took her under our wings and showed her all we knew, and the bond between us only strengthened from then on. That smile was by far the most recognizable part of her, one that I didn't want to go away._

 _I echoed her smile and fetched the bottle of water standing idly on the grass by the side. Gulping down some of the water, I then approached her._

" _Hey, Kitsune," I greeted, wiping the water clean off of my lips. "What are you doing here? You do realize that our lesson ended three hours ago, right?"_

" _That doesn't mean I can't drop on by, does it? Unless of course you want me to leave, which in that case just say the word."_

" _Oh, no no no. I said no such thing. You're more than welcome here."_

 _Kitsune brought a paw up to her lips and giggled. "Glad to hear it."_

" _As a matter of fact, you being here has just saved me an entire night's worth of boredom."_

 _She quirked an eyebrow, as if she had heard the most astonishing news. "Now there's a laugh, right there. You? Get bored of training?" She proceeded towards the dojo, and I followed her tail closely._

 _The two of us made our way across the different nooks and crannies of the dojo at a leisurely pace._

" _Hey, I'll have you know that I've got a social life of my own," I countered her little tease as she walked past the kitchen and the dining area._

" _Is that so?"_

" _You bet your ass I do."_

" _If you do, then you'd know about the movie marathon that we've got planned. Oh, come on. Don't tell me you forgot."_

 _Actually, I_ did _forget, but I didn't say anything to her. All I did was shake my head at her. I was too proud to let her know that. Too proud to ever be proven wrong._

 _I didn't know if she ever bought my response. Kitsune was never one to be fooled so easily, so it was safe to say that she didn't buy it at all._

" _By the way, where is he?" I asked, sitting on the backrest of the sofa and folding my arms. By 'he', I meant the third member of our little three-person band._

" _He's just outside," said Kitsune, to which I followed promptly by parting the front doors to either side._

 _And there he was. Upon opening the doors, I saw a tall, slender-framed crow resting against the leftmost wooden handrail on the stairs. His attire was, like Kitsune's, simple, comprised of denim pants and a long-sleeved shirt. His talons were the only part of him that didn't have any clothing, not that they needed any in the first place. Everything about him was supposed to give off a vibe that went along the lines of 'awesome' or 'cool' or 'badass', but I personally thought he was trying a little too hard._

 _Between us three, I guess you could call Noah an x-factor of sorts. There was so much about him that was a mystery to me and Kitsune, and the very few bits and pieces of his life that he did disclose still left the two of us confused. The earliest memory I had of him was him happening upon our dojo one day and my master welcoming him with open arms and training him into yet another Woo Foo Knight. And it wasn't like it mattered to Noah at all; his eyes were always set forward. That was the only direction he knew where to go._

 _From a few seconds of sizing this bird up, I could see why he remained outside the entire time. A cigarette was clamped in his beak, ejecting puff after puff of smoke into the air. He knew about the ground rules that were set for the dojo, one of them being no cigarette smoking whatsoever. According to my master, this place didn't deserve to be defiled by such a vile object._

" _How long are the two of you gonna keep me waiting? Seriously," said the crow, putting the cigarette in and out of his beak._

" _That depends on how long you plan on holding on to that," I replied, pointing at his cigarette. "You know the rules, Noah. Get rid of it."_

 _Noah rolled his eyes. He crumpled his cigarette in his two wings and flung it as far from the dojo grounds as possible. He cast an annoyed gaze at me, but I countered with my own scrutinizing stare._

"All _of it," I instructed him, articulating each word._

 _Again he rolled his eyes, but this time he groaned as well. He fished his pockets for an entire pack of cigarettes and flung them outside the dojo walls too. "You can't be serious. I just bought these."_

" _Tough luck." I shrugged my shoulders at him. But something occurred to me then. I stopped him before he could dispose of his carton. "Fine, you can bring 'em in."_

" _Hey, I knew you'd come around." He flashed a grin and folded his wings as though they were a pair of arms._

" _But you better make sure the old man doesn't see them, do you understand? If he does—"_

" _Yeah, yeah, yeah, you're turning me into your personal chew toy or some shit like that. I get the picture." Noah flapped the tip of one of his wings in imitation of a moving mouth. I didn't think I'd ever see such audacity from anyone. "Honestly, though, lighten the hell up."_

 _I bit my lower lip hard, but not hard enough to make it bleed. Even with the leniency that I was showing him, he couldn't keep a leash around that tongue of his. It was as if to him, I was some kind of priest and this building was a monastery instead of a dojo. But I could only bend the rules as far as they could be bent. Blur the lines enough that they remained visible._

 _I said not a word and simply leaned against the edges of the doors, guiding Kitsune and Noah inside the dojo. The two of them settled in the living room, and I closed the doors behind me and joined them. After looking over the movies that my two friends had brought over, our movie marathon was ready to commence._

 _And just like that, the small spat between me and Noah faded into the distance. It was a testament to the bond that the three of us shared. Nothing in this world, whether big or small, could ever come between us. For all the disagreements we would inevitably come to down the road, we remained close at the end of the day._

 _In each other, we found solace. In each other, we found a friendly rivalry. In each other, we saw the best of us being brought out by one another's mere presence alone._

The memory comes to an end, and I find myself back in the deeper parts of this cave. I am in my room, passing the time by playing on an electric guitar that I've recently bought for myself. All the days spent working at _Wild Ones'_ is starting to pay off, so to speak. The money I earn goes into furnishing this cave into a more hospitable abode and buying all kinds of necessities for me and Yang to go by. Furniture, appliances, clothes, whatever you can name, I can more or less afford.

The place is in tip top shape so far, but it's far from finished. Between training my aspiring student, honing my own Woo Foo skills and making renovations, I have a lot of work to do. It all takes a greater toll on me than I anticipated.

I'm in my room at the moment, lying on my bed. Taking a rest after an entire afternoon of nothing but rearranging this cave. One of the necessities that I've bought for myself is an alarm clock with a built-in radio on my nightstand to my right. I still don't quite understand how those newfangled, futuristic-looking ones work. You know what they look like: the ones that have—what do they say they are? Touchpads?—as opposed to knobs and buttons, and a bunch of holes and whatnot to plug some kind of device in. It's a little embarrassing of me to say it, but I'm going to need Yang's help figuring this new technology out. Thankfully, he's agreed.

Anyway, I bob my head in a steady rhythm as _Back In Black_ by AC/DC starts playing through the speaker. Once I feel that I'm rested enough, I get up off of my bed and make my way to my wardrobe to fetch yet another 'necessity' that's lying around there – an electric guitar with an amplifier to match it. I listen closely to the music and pluck the strings along with the opening riff, shutting my eyes to immerse myself into the melody.

Music is another thing that's seen a tremendous change. Well, maybe it isn't that tremendous, but it is noticeable. Heavy metal doesn't seem to be getting the appreciation it deserves anymore. Lately, the talk of the town is one of, or a combination of a number of things: pop, dubstep, hip-hop and rap. I guess people have forgotten the amount of skill it takes to play a piano or guitar or any other acoustic instrument out there. It's all about tinkering their computers, keyboards—or keypads, whatever they're supposed to be—and mice—which is weird, since I thought they're supposed to be rodents—in order to produce sound. Then again, there's a lot I don't know about this new generation.

Once the song finishes, I turn the knob around to find another station I can listen to. Most of the music I hear, I am completely unfamiliar with. They're mostly about one of the following subject matters: love, partying and having a good time, and sex. Thank goodness the static gets in the way of me actually listening to them, I'm already beginning to dread what's to come.

After surfing the airwaves for a good ten to twenty seconds, I stop at a radio station that's crystal clear. The DJ babbles on about a contest to win tickets to a music festival or concert and then finally introduces the next song, if it can even be called that. He calls it 'an oldie, but a goodie', but my reservations keep me from believing him.

When the lyrics start, I feel a sudden urge that tells me to bang my head repeatedly against a wall.

 _You know you love me_ – uh, no I don't, pal.

 _I know you care_ – yeah, keep telling yourself that.

 _Just shout whenever_

 _And I'll be there_ – if you are, I'm going to tell you to get some singing lessons.

 _You want my love_

 _You want my heart_

 _And we'll never ever, ever be apart_

 _Are we an item?_

 _Girl, quit playin'_

 _We're just friends_ – we're not friends, and we never will be.

 _What are you sayin'?_

 _Said there's another as you look right in my eyes_

 _My first love broke my heart for the first time_ – I hope she broke your face, too.

 _And I was like_

And I'm not kidding; the entirety of the chorus is comprised of nothing but the word 'baby', and maybe an 'oh' and a 'no' here and there.

 _That's it, enough's enough._

Swiftly I bring my arm across the nightstand, sending the clock flying to the other side of the room and slamming into the wall. It falls to the ground, pieces inside of it rattling. Heh… Looks like that's a hundred and fifty dollars down the drain.

And people have the nerve to call rock music and heavy metal noise. Seriously, what the hell was that? Their so-called Justin Bieber's, their Lady Gaga's, their Arianna Grande's and whatnots… People call _them_ musicians? That's the sickest joke I think I've ever heard.

Anyway, I walk over to where the alarm clock landed and pick up what little of it is left. It doesn't seem to be completely broken, so I put it back in its original spot. I then head to the kitchen, and just as I grab the thing and close the fridge door behind me, I hear footsteps ringing in a crescendo from the entrance to this cave. I shift my face to the direction of the noise.

Yang stands just at the edge of the living room, breathing heavily, clutching his wrist tightly His face strained, knees bent and body hunched forward. Pained groans and grunts escape his mouth. I proceed to the living room, sit down on the couch and plant my feet on the coffee table, curving my mouth into a sly, serpentine smile.

"Welcome home," I greet my student, crossing one leg over the other. "Judging by the look on your face, I can tell that you had a lot of fun tonight. Ready to pass out, little guy?"

Unamused by my jesting, he comes closer to me, each step he takes a trial. "Hilarious," he says dryly.

I clamp my paws together and rest my head on top of them. A chuckle slips off the tip of my tongue, which only serves to grate on his nerves. But it's exactly what I'm hoping to accomplish. "Now, now. Don't let me rain on your parade. This is obviously your show. Think of me as a spectator and nothing more."

After letting out a particularly harsh grunt, Yang releases his wrist from his hand and narrows his stare at me. "Cut the condescending bullshit already," he demands, fed up. "I'm not in the mood. Now explain yourself."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"I think you know very well. Don't you think that there's something you're not telling me? Something that, I don't know, I need to be informed about?"

The answer to both of his questions is a solid, unspoken 'yes'. The reason I don't say it to him is to get under his skin. To make it crawl, to make his blood boil.

Instead of telling him what he wants to hear, I merely answer with, "Sorry, but I'm still a little lost," and accompany the statement with a shrug.

He doesn't see it—and I plan on keeping it that way—but what he considers an attempt to piss him off on my part is my own way of evaluating him. It is simply me seeing how far his conviction, his commitment, stretches. This is me gauging his capacity as a Woo Foo Knight.

From what I've seen of this blue rabbit boy so far, I know for a fact that greatness is just beyond the horizon for him. These are the words I told Yin during your first meeting not long ago, and I mean every word of it. Somewhere inside of him is a power that has yet to be awakened. It can be brought out with the right guidance. Guidance that I can give him, guidance that he can never get if he remained with that hollow, miserable old fart.

But every once in a while, it can get a little hard to bring out that promise in my student. As determined as Yang is, he _is_ still a child. And children aren't as…tempered, for lack of a better word. They're a handful.

Yang, the last of his patience worn out, raises his right arm and points me to it.

"Oh, for crying out loud. I'm talking about this," he shouts. "Ever since you gave me this, I feel like something's ready to pop out of me, as if it's been there the entire time. When I suck up every ounce of Fog around me, I can feel myself dying little by little. And every waking minute that passes, it only gets worse and worse."

"That? That's just your body adapting to the Grimoire. It's ensuring that you're attuned to what's coming soon."

"Bullshit. Why the hell did you give me this? You clearly know how dangerous this thing is, yet you just handed it over to me. What is going on in your mind? I honestly want to know, because I am beyond curious."

I cross my legs and plant an elbow on the nearest armrest. My eyes burrow into their way into his head, resonating with his soul. Right now, I don't see a fearsome, headstrong warrior. I see my student for the child he is. The delicate, young thing that he is. Any semblance of a carefree attitude is wiped clean from my face.

"You're the one who wanted this, remember?" I say to him without a hint of warmth in my voice. "I warned you already that this is—"

"I know, I know, an excruciating experience. You don't have to tell me twice."

Then, as he says that, I feel an aching in my chest. It's growing at an alarming rate, and eventually, I flounder to the floor. I clutch where my heart is to contain this persistent throbbing, teeth gritting and face contorting. It just had to happen now… Goddamn it.

Yang scrambles over to me and searches for some way to help me. There is none.

"Lupin!" he cries out in his desperation, dropping his sword to the floor. Putting his paws on my person like it's going to help. In a way, it does. Somewhat.

This pain in my chest is nothing new. I've had these attacks one too many times. You could call it a price for recklessness.

Yang doesn't know this, of course, and each time he sees me floored like this, struggling just to breathe, tensing my whole body until the pain inevitably subsides, he always goes into a panic. As soon as it ends, I always tell him that I'm going to be fine. That he has nothing to worry about. I wish I could believe it myself. And although he believes it, it won't be long before my words turn empty.

My insides continue to burn until the hurting finally dies out and I manage to bring myself to my knees. Hurriedly I take in as much air as my lungs will allow. It's over. For now…

"Are you alright?" he asks, starting off with a stammer before getting himself composed.

One heavy breath after another, and I urge myself to answer him. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

Sighing in relief, Yang allows his head to flop. "What is your deal?" His labored breaths turn into small chuckles.

"What?"

"Scaring me half to death like this? With these so-called 'heartburns'? If this is some kind of practical joke, then you need to find a new one, fast."

I return his chuckles with a few of my own, making out some humor in his questions. "Maybe it is, maybe it isn't," I say, going along with his banter. Leaving the real matter at hand for another day, when he's ready to hear it.

Instead, I sit up, bring one of my knees close to me and gather a different set of words in my mind.

"Yang," I whisper to him solemnly, beckoning him to come closer to me.

"Hm?"

"I gave you the Grimoire for a few reasons. The first is that I was trying to tell you something you should know."

"What is it?"

My chest is heavy, as is my head, but this time, there's no danger of my interior catching fire again.

"As strong as that artifact may be, it can never be a complete substitute for the power that lies inside of you. I don't want you to think any less of that power. I don't want you to devalue your worth. When the time is right, that power of yours will be unveiled before your eyes, and you'll know exactly what I'm talking about."

Given how intently Yang is listening to my little diatribe, though, I can tell that word for word, he understands me perfectly. He nods his head slowly at me, digesting every word, every syllable.

The gaze in his eyes is a resolute one. Woo Foo Knights the world over, from generation to generation, have worn this mask to attest their strength, their valor. If only I can see this gaze, that glint, more often in him.

I stand up, but wobble a bit. Though I don't really need it, Yang helps me on my feet and leads me to the countertop at the kitchen, where the two of us sit on the chairs laid out for us.

"What's the other thing you were trying to tell me?" he asks, clasping his paws and resting them on the granite surface.

"It's a reminder of the difference between power fueled by conviction and power on its own," I say, retaining the solemnity I spoke with not a minute just now. "You've seen a glimpse of it, right?"

"I have, yeah."

"Then you understand what it means to lose sight of what you're fighting for, don't you?"

"Yes."

I lower my head and exhale easily. I can only hope that there's weight behind his word. That he won't be like many other Woo Foo who have found themselves trapped in this all-too-common pitfall.

That leads me to the final thing I have to say to my student.

"One more thing," I say to Yang, looking at him from over my shoulder.

"Yup?"

For some reason, I hesitate before saying a word to him. "I gave you that Grimoire because I have faith in you."

Yang's eyes—no, his whole face—is aglow after I utter that statement. As if he's asking me, "Really?"

Assuming this, I nod at him and smile softly.

It's not that I ever doubt him. I mean, sure I've had my misgivings the first time I laid eyes on him. Yeah, he can be a handful, and I've had moments where I've gone off my rocker when it comes to training him, but the confidence I've put in him has not gone to waste. This much, I believe.

Not only that, but he needs this. From what I've seen and heard of this boy so far, he doesn't get enough faith and trust from his master – yet another one of his shortcomings that is in need of correcting, I'm sure. It's these small nuggets of detail that convince me that he and I are kindred spirits. That he and I are so much more than master and pupil.

The hour grows late. It's ten o'clock at night. Allowing one last chuckle to slip off my tongue, I pat Yang on the back, and we head down the corridor leading to our respective rooms. As I guide him to his room, he comes across the clutter of albums scattered across my bedroom floor. He moves out of my grasp to pick one of the CD's up and stares at it with what I assume to be disapproval or revulsion.

"What have we here?" says Yang, opening the case and checking the disc like some kind of private investigator.

I snicker. The album that my student has chosen is none other than _Ride the Lightning_ by Metallica. Music that I doubt kids of his age would know of, let alone appreciate.

"Heavy metal. You can't go wrong with it," I comment, resting against my doorframe.

"Right." Yang rolls his eyes at me and scrounges through the pile. "Metallica? Megadeth? Anthrax? Slayer?"

"The Big Four of Metal."

"Nah. Not for me." Haphazardly he discards the album in his paw down on the bed. And here I thought that today's generation would know real music if it were blasted into their ears.

"Don't knock it till you've tried it, kid," I say amusedly, walking into my room to reorganize my belongings.

"Yeah, I like music, not noise."

I rattle my head. He didn't just… Oh, he did.

"Excuse me? Noise?" I raise an eyebrow and glare at him for a good five to ten seconds. Then I grab one of my albums to show to Yang – _News of the World_ by Queen. "Look at this, Yang. Look at it long and hard. I just heard some of the crap that you people listen to nowadays. _This_ is music, do you get me?"

Maybe I'm taking this a little too seriously. For what should be trivial and opinionated, I sure am making a big deal out of this. Not that either of us know or care.

Yang probably does, because he's laughing as I'm making a mountain out of this molehill. "If you say so," he remarks, once again rolling his eyes.

"Never mind. It's getting late." I shake my head and put the album down. "We'll address your…questionable music preferences some other time. In the meantime, go get some shut-eye. We've got plenty to cover tomorrow, and I need you to be at your absolute best."

So he gets up from my bed and leaves my room, but not without sparing one last glance at my music collection.

"G'night, Lupin," he says, finally departing.

"Nighty night, kiddo," I say as warmly as I can, putting my album collection away in the bottom drawer of my wardrobe.

With my student finally out of my sight, I go back to where I left off and pick my guitar up from the floor. The alarm clock looks broken beyond repair, but thankfully, it's still functional, if not barely. The sound is badly distorted, but at least I have something.

I turn the knob and return to the rock and heavy metal station I was listening to before I sent the thing careening to an untimely fate. The next song that plays is one I never thought I would hear on the airwaves. And it just so happens that I know this song very well myself.

The intro plays, comprised of a slow violin motif and a guitar melody to lead into the song proper. Once the lyrics kick in, I sing along as well.

 _I couldn't look back_

 _You'd gone away from me_

 _I felt my heart ache_

 _I was afraid of following you_

 _When I had looked at_

 _The shadows on the wall_

 _I started running into the light_

 _To find that truth in me_

After the prelude is a drum roll on the cymbal which then transitions into the main part of the song: an electrifying guitar riff and rough vocals punctuated by a drum beat clocking in at three hundred beats per minute.

 _Kurenai_ by another renowned metal group, X Japan. To my surprise, this is actually a cover, not the original.

 _A storm starts to brew and blow across the streets_

 _As I take you in my arms_

 _A harsh wind shall blow and veil my eyes_

 _The only thing you ever do is run_

 _You run like you're being chased_

 _Not realizing that I'm all alone_

 _You're a fleeting memory, passing night and day_

 _Here I am on this stage_

 _I'm performing all alone_

 _Like I always have_

 _I don't know how long I can last_

 _All of you in my memory_

 _Is still shining in my heart_

 _Imparting your sacred tears_

 _Now here I am bathed in deep red_

 _Bathed in this pain_

 _Never again shall I give out_

 _These memories of you_

 _I shout on the top of my lungs_

 _Even still, all you do is run_

 _Run like you're in a chase_

 _Never once knowing I'm alone_

 _Here I am again, bathed in deep red_

 _Numbing away the pain_

 _Never again will I relinquish_

 _These memories of you_

 _Even so, I will continue to shout_

 _I'll shout to my very last breath_

 _This pain shall be mine, and I'll continue to endure_

 _And be bathed in deep red_

 _Oh, cry in deep red_

As the song plays, I follow the riff on my guitar as closely as I can. There is a piece of me in each pluck of the strings. Most of the notes and chords, I play to near perfection—key word: _near_. I don't consider myself some sort of guitar god, but I definitely know how to play the instrument.

Not a bad performance, if I say so myself. Some of the translation doesn't work, but most of it does.

My emotions stir throughout the course of the song. Every little bit of me pops open like a bunch of corks flying out of glass bottles. I see the two faces I saw not long ago. The crow and the fox. The former with his fiery determination, and the latter with her radiance that shames the sun and the moon.

This is one part of me that won't go away. That I will fiercely hold on to, even in these strange, new times. All of a sudden, I'm beginning to think that this song playing right now, at this instant, is by no means a coincidence.

The second the song ends, I tuck myself into bed and shut my eyes. Far be it for me to set a terrible example to my student by being an insomniac. My head plants itself on the pillow, and lulling me to sleep are these two visages.

I wonder. With how much time has flown, could they have forgotten me? Would they still remember? I'm guessing they do. The pain of losing your closest, dearest friend is one that sticks. A transcendent pain. They won't forget.

The upper half of my body remains uncovered. I lean on the headrest, arms folded. Contemplating. Miring myself in these thoughts.

 _Kitsune…_

 _Noah…_

One more time. That's all I ask. One more time to stand face to face with them. To feel their touch, to lose myself in their embrace. It's a stretch. It might not happen. Not in this lifetime, or any other.

Still, I'm holding out for it.

 _Yes. You too, you old fart._


	14. Points of View

_**Calamity Hoppers ~Reprise~**_

 **by Christopher R. Martin**

Chapter 14 – Points of View

* * *

 _Yin_

 _I'm by myself. Hunched in a ball. Eyes shut. In a place where time stands completely still. Who knows how long I've been here? It could be an entire day. A week. Maybe a month. There's no telling._

 _This is a perfect time for me to reflect on everything._

 _How the heck did I even get here?_

…

…

…

 _That's right. I was in the heat of battle. My opponent was none other than Yang. He and I fought our hearts out. My brother was stronger than I had ever seen him. Knowing this, I still kept on fighting. My deepest desires, my most sincere ambitions, they were my driving force. But hoping and dreaming could only get me so far. They're not always the deciding factors in a fight._

 _As it turned out, they didn't get me anywhere at all._

 _And I lost because of this._

 _With a small, pathetic voice, I cry out. The words I utter are a window into my heart._

" _Yang. Brother. Big bro…"_

 _It's like what my master had told me. Something as precious as a sibling comes so rarely in life. And that if I really do cherish him, I'll never lose sight of it. If my conviction really is strong and true, then I'll hold on to it fiercely. Never once lose sight of it._

 _That is what I'm doing now. Words and thoughts aren't enough, though._

 _I spread my arms from my curled position. I open my eyes to encompassing darkness, reaching out to it. Envisioning Yang's face in my grasp. But I don't find him there. He isn't there. All the words that dangle on my tongue, the many things I mean to tell him, up and evaporate._

 _I really_ am _pathetic. I can do nothing. One option remains. I heed it._

 _I shut my eyes once again and feel a teardrop pouring down my face._

…

…

…

"Yang. Brother. Big bro…" I mumble softly, extending my hands to who-knows-what. They reach upwards, falling for the tricks that my head plays on me. What I find weird is that I'm keeping my eyes closed throughout all of this. I don't know why.

While I'm grabbing to this imaginary object I'm thinking of, I hear someone calling to me. "Yin. Yin! Easy there." This person holds me gently by the wrist and forces my arms to stop moving.

Finally, I open my eyes. I awaken to a familiar room – _our_ room, mine and my brother's. I'm on my side of it, which is laden with countless posters of the cutest boys taken straight from _Peachy Teen_ magazine and of two-nicorns, mostly the leader of the majestic race, Rainbow Mane.

And as always, Yang's side is disheveled and hideous, characterized by all of the discarded clothing and underwear lying here and there. Ugh!

I get up from my bed, but not without experiencing a searing pain surging through my body. It stings everywhere. Were the injuries I sustained from the fight really that bad?

Maybe I went into this unprepared. I'm a cadet who's gone into the battle completely green and ill-equipped. It's nothing that extensive training can't remedy. I need to train ASAP. Push all of me past their limitations. My body, my mind, my soul and my spirit, everything. Until I do that, until I throw myself into a Woo Foo crash course, I won't stand a chance against my brother or Lupin.

I ponder on this too much without even noticing my father sitting right by my nightstand. He's holding a bowl and mixing its contents with a spoon. A fragrance wafts from it and stimulates my senses. It's the only thing he knows how to cook. Actually, it's the only thing I've seen him cook.

"You're finally up," says Dad with a mix of relief and despair.

"Looks that way," I comment plainly, rubbing my head to draw my thoughts in one place. I stare at the soup that he's stirring and take a whiff. "Smells good."

"Glad to hear it. I made it just for you, in case you eventually got back up." He rests the bowl on the nightstand, rubs his paws together and closes his eyes in meditation.

"What do you mean 'eventually'?" I ask with one eye squinted at him. I probably should have thanked him for the soup first.

"Oh, I forgot to mention. You've been out for one month. I was so worried that you wouldn't wake up at all." His words are heavy on him, as he struggles just to utter one.

A one-month coma… This can't be happening. For one month, the entire world has been moving forward, while I've been lying here on the verge of death. I must have missed so much this whole time.

Oh, who am I kidding? Of course I've missed a lot. From the end-of-semester examination at the Academy to a few major and minor current events to maybe even… No. I hate to think about it, but it might be true. I can't tell where Yang and Lupin are now at this point.

Why? Why am I so pitiful? Why am I so weak? So inadequate? How could I have let myself end up this way?

Fuming with anger, I punch the surface of my nightstand, which causes some of the soup to spill on my arm. That part of my body is burning, but the pain is only secondary to how frustrated I really am.

"Damn it!" I shout, just about ready to let the tears out.

"Hey, hey, hey," says my father, getting a grip on my wrist. "What's the matter with you?"

"Yang… He's out there somewhere. And I let him get away. Some Woo Foo Knight I am." Some _sister_ I am. "If only I…" I'm too mad at myself to even finish the sentence.

Dad grips my wrist tighter and gets my attention. "If only what? You didn't stand a chance against your brother, and nothing you could have done was going to change that. You should count yourself lucky that you're even alive and breathing!"

"But I…"

I don't even know what I'm saying or what's come over me. Who am I? What is wrong with me? As much as I resist the temptation, a tear manages to find its way past my eyelids. It almost slides down my cheeks.

My master loosens his hold on me and puts his paws on my lap, getting me to look him in the eye.

"You need to calm yourself down," he advises me, consolingly rubbing my leg to alleviate my unhinged emotion. "Now, why don't we start by taking it from the top? Let's find out where you've gone wrong and then go from there."

I nod my head in compliance and retrace the entire night, explaining it to him as I remember it. It's a good thing that I'm lucid and I recall pretty much everything that's transpired.

Every part of my story is enough to cause raised eyebrows on their own. The mention of the Woo Foo Grimoire and how Yang is in possession of it rings a bell in my master, as he takes his sweet time deliberating on it. And when I tell him about what the artifact can do, about the power it has bestowed upon my brother, he's one step closer to figuring it out.

But he really starts paying attention when I bring up Lupin, his former student. As soon as that name leaves my mouth, there's a pervasive chill around the room that not even the soup can compare to.

"He came out of nowhere," I describe, tapping my fingers on my legs rhythmically. "I thought I was done for. But he didn't attack me." Even now, I'm still surprised at the mercy he has shown me. "He said he has a message for you."

"What did he say?" asks my father intently, moving closer to hear what I have to say next.

"He told me…"

Again, I hesitate then and there. There must be something else I can say other than those cold, hateful words I heard that night. Maybe there isn't. But I just don't have that in me. To tell my father that his previous pupil has a vendetta against him.

Master Yo rises slightly, his eyes digging into my consciousness. He says nothing and just expects me to tell him outright…

…which I do.

"He told me 'the prodigal son has returned'. That he is going to drag you to the deepest depths of hell."

My master relaxes his posture and rubs his chin, a burden falling upon him. Sooner or later, he is going to have to confront Lupin. Confront who he was. It'll be hard. Only one of two outcomes will happen, and neither of them will be a happy one.

"That's how it is, huh?" he says, sitting next to me. "I really am to blame here." This must be the second time now that I've seen him beat himself up like this.

It's here that I realize what I'm sure is only one of a handful of mistakes I've made since this crisis began. And that's taking the entire blame on myself. Going out there and fighting not just for my sake, but for the sake of my father, too. Purposefully forgetting that he too has a role to play here.

What a 'great' Woo Foo Knight I am, right?

I pat my dad on the back and manage to break out a smile amidst my aching body. "I wouldn't say that," I say, returning the favor for his consoling a minute ago. "I'm not exactly the world's best sister or anything. Maybe…"

"Maybe what?"

"Maybe this can be a fresh new start for us. We should probably try looking at it this way."

Dad smiles back and rubs my head, rustling my rabbit ears. "That's more like the Yin that I know," he comments, getting up from the bed. "Now let's go. We have a lot of training to do before we're ready to get back out there."

I too get on my feet. "Really? Right now?"

"Yeah." My master looks over his shoulder before turning around. "Is something the matter?"

"No, everything's fine. It's just… I think we're more than ready now, don't you?"

As if he'd heard the most outrageous joke spoken by anyone, Dad raises an eyebrow and walks slowly towards me. "Are you hearing yourself, Yin? Did you really just say that?"

"Well, we already know what we're up against, and we've fought many dangerous people before this point. How is this going to be any different?"

For some reason, these words don't feel like they belong to me. I guess they don't. Even I am surprised to hear myself of all people say such a thing. Outright avoid training? Did I hit my head against a hard surface?

Then, my father crosses past my bed and picks an object up from the ground. He shows it to me. Snow Flower. _Yuki no Hana_. The Woo Foo Talisman that I brought with me to battle. I can't believe I forgot about it. _Phew_. I'm glad that it's safe and sound and not in anyone else's possession.

But I don't get it. I don't understand why he's showing it to me.

Dad moves even closer to me and unsheathes the blade, bringing it towards my eyes so that I may look at it. I observe every inch of it, every bit of its anatomy. Its crystalline finish, the felted hilt, the sturdy scabbard that keeps it from gathering rust.

In about fifteen seconds, it hits me. I'm not just looking at my weapon, but at my reflection. My present state – disheveled, battered and beaten, bones and muscles aching. Unable to discern what's right and what's wrong. I don't blame the sword for letting me down the way it did. The fault is all in me, not in my weapon.

All I wanted was to get my brother back. But underneath that determined pink rabbit who scavenged an ancient Woo Foo treasure was a desperate, frightened, lonesome little girl. A miserable wretch of a rabbit who doesn't even have the slightest clue why she's doing what she's doing. Why she wants what she wants. She beseeched her big brother not to leave her side. She hated to see him go. Every day without him was suffocating her. She was losing her mind. She needed him to such an unhealthy degree.

I hate her…

"Yin," begins my father, his voice sacred as the blade in his hands. "I know how badly you want to get your brother back. I know that you mean it word for word. But we can't afford to go out there in our current condition. You barely made it out the first time, and I refuse to let you make this gamble again. We need time to get ready, which is exactly what Yang has done and why he is where he is now."

Time… As that age-old saying goes, _we have all the time in the world_. If that were really the case, then there's no reason we should be in a hurry. Unfortunately, it's not true. It never is. It's an illusion. A sad, little lie used to soothe people. No amount of rationalizing can convince anyone otherwise.

But that could be just me being impatient. Me always in a hurry to have things my way. Yet another part of me I totally despise. Another part of me that I want to wipe clean.

I hesitate putting my paw around Snow Flower's hilt, my breath more labored now. If I touch this sword, then that means I'm agreeing to my father's order.

"You can be as strong as your brother has become…with enough preparations. Trust me."

It's so embarrassing that there's someone else who knows me better than I know myself. Way to go, Yin. Way to go.

He and I stare into each other's eyes for a while before I take hold of the sword. A heavenly sound knells from inside the crystal blade, feeding me with power. I feel my heart and mind being stimulated and the aching across my body gradually dissipating.

Master Yo releases the sword so that I may carry it on my own. I take my time to get used to the weight and finally put it back in the scabbard, my renewed will reflected in my determined gaze.

"Let's get started," I say to my teacher, gripping the scabbard tightly.

"That's the spirit." He doesn't waste any more time and leaves the room.

But a thought occurs to me and I remain behind. Dad stops between the door and the doorframe to see what the fuss is about.

"Actually, something's come up that I need to take care of," I say. "I'll be with you in a minute."

"You got it." Then he's gone.

I then scrounge my whole side of the room, searching the closet, the nightstand drawers and even underneath my bed. It has to be here somewhere.

Buried in a discarded pile of my clothes is a smooth, hard item that I fish out quickly. My cell phone. Glad I didn't lose this, either. Although I could do without the residual smell. At least it's still working and surprisingly hasn't run out of battery after one whole month.

Actually, I just notice now the charger plugged in on the power outlet. I take it that Dad's taken good care of my phone this whole time, except for the whole 'buried in dirty clothes' part, of course.

Anyway, moving on. 'There is strength in numbers', as people often say. I dial away on the touch screen and prepare myself for multiple calls.

It'd be a disappointment if I hear even one of these people say 'no' to what I have to ask. I expect everyone I call to comply with me.

No questions asked…

* * *

 _Weiss_

"Alright, you guys, settle down. Take your seats."

The whole class obliges to Miss Yin's command and sits on their respective desks, putting their collective chatter to rest. Once I'm seated, I observe her intently as she walks towards the front of the schoolhouse.

It may not look like it, but there's something different about Miss Yin. She seems like she's off her game. It's been that way ever since she got back. She doesn't say a word about it to any one of us. I don't think she's said a word about it to anyone, _period_. I wonder if it has anything to do with Mister Yang going AWOL. Which could explain why she looks like she's on medication lately.

Even if she hasn't brought her situation up with us, it doesn't stop my classmates from talking about it amongst themselves. Behind her back. And since she isn't letting us in on it, they see no point in letting her in on what they're talking about either.

I don't involve myself in any of the gossiping, but I'm still concerned. Mister Yang being away for a week or two is one thing, but more than a month of being absent? I think that's as good a time as any to start worrying.

What is going on? Is there any way that I can help? It's a bit of a stretch, but a part of me is egging me on, reminding me not to sit idly by when something out of the ordinary crops up.

"Today's the day, you guys. The day that you all get your examination results. Sorry it took a while, but there have been…complications. At any rate, here they are."

As she says this, she picks up a mountainous pile of paper on the desk and strides from desk to desk, from row to row. Distributing each test paper one by one.

That would have to be the first and maybe only time that she makes any mention of what she's going through. 'Complications'? Heh. That's putting it lightly. Even some of the other students think this, and have begun their murmured conversations anew. Miss Yin easily spots them, though, and quickly puts an end to them.

Putting these musings aside for now, I focus on my own agenda.

In about two days' time, this semester here at the Woo Foo Academy will be over. What awaits all of us now is two weeks of well-earned rest and relaxation. Some time to recover from the countless hours spent on schoolwork, some time to catch up on what may have been missed in such a long period of time.

"Now I'm well aware that you guys are excited for the upcoming break. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't," says Miss Yin, drawing closer to my row. "But I advise that you set aside some time to revisit the topics that were covered this semester. If not for me, then at least for yourself."

I can hear her voice coming directly from behind now, which means that she's a few steps away from where I'm seated. For those who've yet to receive their papers, the suspense is killing them. Including me.

Unlike my peers, I suppress the anticipation and force it out of my system by breathing in and out. They like to say that I'm shy. That I'm 'reserved'. That I'm hesitant, always waiting for something to happen instead of making the first move. Even now, I can hear one, two, three of them talking about me in their murmurs. The quiet ones are always the ones they set their sights on. They can say what they like, and I'd say that these claims are true for the most part.

But they have no idea that the quiet ones more often than not end up on top. And if there's one thing I'm not afraid of, it's this exam.

Mister Yang told me that I need to look ahead. That I need to see every outcome. Find the brightest one and seize it with everything that I have. These so-called quirks that my peers keep mentioning, they're just setbacks. Dedication and hard work are what really set us apart.

If my teacher's words are to be believed, then the score that's written on my test paper will be all the proof I need.

Before long, I open my eyes and find it lying flat on my desk before me. I feel the soft touch of Miss Yin's paw behind my head as she says to me, "I've got high hopes for you, kiddo. Keep up the good work."

I want to smile at her, but the best I can crack is a faint, indiscernible semblance of one. She moves to the next row, but not without giving me a brief glimpse of a strip of white wrapped around her abdomen.

Taking a deep breath, I turn the sheet of paper around. The air comes rushing out of my mouth just as fast as it came in…

* * *

Everyone in the schoolhouse is antsy, completely restless. Hyperactive in some way, shape or form. They're either drumming their fingers on their desks, tapping their feet on the floor the way a tap dancer does or gritting their teeth like a saw.

Once the school bell rings, their hyperactivity stops and is replaced by their combined cheering, their hurried packing away of their belongings and their thunderous footsteps carrying them out the door.

"Have a good holiday, you guys," says Miss Yin in a cheery wind, smiling at each and every one of her students.

While my classmates are racing out the door, I, on the other hand, take my time in putting my stuff away. My pencil case is the last item to fall into my backpack, and I then take my leave, but Miss Yin halts me in my step and asks me to approach her at the desk.

"Always the last one out," she says with a smile, taking on a casual tone. "Aren't you, Weiss?" Her question is met with silence. Picking up on this and the waning fragment of a smile on my face, she then shifts to a different topic. "Everything alright?"

"I guess so." That's the best I can say right now; I know exactly what she wants to talk about, but I wish that she hadn't brought it up.

She leans forward, a little over the desk, and gently puts a paw on my arm. "Hey. Hang tough. And if there's anything you ever want to talk about, I'm all ears." One of her ears flops to the side and makes contact with her free paw. Noticing this, she retracts the paw she's holding me with and fixes the ear up. "So to speak."

"Thanks, Miss Yin," I say, my voice never rising in volume.

"Come on, Weiss. There's no need for that. Outside of classes, it's just Yin and Yang. Got it?"

"Okay…Yin," I say, her comments actually getting a chuckle out of me. Referring to her and her brother simply by their names, without any titles to go with it, is going to be a bit tricky.

I'm about to turn tail and take my leave when it suddenly occurs to me. No reason for me not to bring it up now, right? And if she wants to be involved in my life, then that gives me the right to be involved in hers.

"Actually, there _is_ one thing I've been meaning to ask you. If it's alright with you, that is."

"Fire away." Yin shrugs and rests her arms on the table.

I relent a little beforehand, unsure of whether or not this is a good idea. I quickly sort myself out, though, and just go through with it.

"When is Yang going to be back?" I say without feeling an ounce of regret. "It's been over a month now, and to be honest, I'm more than concerned."

That was a lot simpler and went so much easier than I thought. As simple as my question was, it freezes Yin in place, leaving her thoroughly thinking about what to say next.

"It's…" She seals her eyes shut and takes a breath. "It's hard to say. Woo Foo matters can be easy or they can be complex. They aren't always taken care of overnight." No. They're _never_ taken care of overnight.

Oddly enough, that answers only a small fraction of my question.

"Aren't you worried at all? Like, shouldn't anyone in the dojo be doing something about this?"

"Well, I _am_ worried about him, but at the same time, I'm not."

"What?"

Even Yin seems to be confused by her own answer. "I'm worried because that's what siblings are supposed to do. And at the same time, I'm confident that he'll make it back. My brother's many things, and built-to-last is one of them. I know him just as well as he knows himself."

"I see. Alright…"

Hearing her say that makes me feel relieved. Somewhat. But I still feel that there's more that can be done. If only I can lend a hand in some way or another.

Yin stands from her chair and makes her way to the door, but on the way there, she staggers on each step. Not only that, but her right arm is constantly pressing against her midsection. The strip of white that I saw wrapped around her two days ago comes into view. The closer she moves to the doorway, the more I see the red tinges along the strip.

I think I have a good idea what it is. And after seeing her completely lose her footing, I confirm the idea.

Urgently I race to her side. "Yin!" I cry out as I guide her on the way with both of my paws, never letting go for even a split second. "Are you alright?"

Yin groans, still holding on to her midsection, to the bandages that cover it. Her entire body bogging down on me like some kind of marsh.

"I'm okay. I've had worse than this," she says. How can she still crack a smile with all this bleeding?

"I doubt that." I manage to bring her to the door and prop her gently on the frame.

"Really, Weiss. I've got it completely under control." Yin's right paw glows a deep green, and she waves it over her wound. The red blots on the bandages lighten a little, and her breaths aren't as haggard anymore. "See? It doesn't sting anymore. Nothing to worry about."

About three seconds after she says that last sentence, we hear a car horn honking from outside of the dojo grounds. The sound blares at a rapid pace, as if the driver inside is in desperate need of attention.

When I realize who the person behind the steering wheel is, my sense of urgency kicks in.

"Oh my gosh! That's probably my brother," I exclaim as I leap down the small staircase and hurry across the front yard. "I'll see you after the break, Yin!" I wave goodbye at my teacher and return my focus to the path ahead.

"Take care of yourself, kiddo." Yin waves back at me, her smile not fading in spite of her injuries.

As I'm making my way out of the dojo, the honking horn gets louder and louder. I enter the station wagon to an irate fox with fur that's slightly darker than mine sitting at the driver's seat, impatiently drumming his fingers along the steering wheel. He and I exchange a look through the rearview mirror, and I hear him sigh deeply.

"Jesus. Took you long enough," my brother grumbles as he fastens his seatbelt. "What the hell was the holdup?"

"Sorry. I was just saying bye to my teacher," I say in response, hurriedly tossing my backpack opposite of where I'm seated and buckling up too.

"You spent fifteen minutes just doing that? Gimme a break." He revs up the engine, and he does it aggressively. "If you were going to waste time, the least you could have done is let me know. I've been calling you over and over, and I get nothing. Did it occur to you that maybe you had a cell phone in that backpack?"

"I already said I'm sorry. What more do you want, Tyler?" I exclaim to him while slowly pulling out my phone from my bag's smallest pocket. The screen flips on to reveal five missed calls from my brother.

This conversation is going nowhere. Both I and Tyler realize this, and he just sighs and starts the car. As we drive out of the curb and into the road, I gaze out my window and let my thoughts roam around me for the time being. My reflection projects an absent, detached look. _Breathe in, breathe out_.

When I think about it, I can't really blame Tyler for being this high-maintenance. Being the man of the house, the man of the family, isn't exactly what you'd call a walk in the park. Keeping this family together, putting food on the table, clothes on our backs, he has a lot to take care of. The role used to belong to our Dad, but he told my big brother that one of these days, he was going to take the reins. And that day has come. Though he probably wishes that that day hadn't come this early.

With so much on his plate—a plate that's hardly ever empty—it's no surprise that he has to let off some of that steam.

"Hey, Ty?" I ask sheepishly, twiddling my fingers in play.

"Hm?" All he gives me is a fleeting glance through the mirror.

"About Mom… You think she's going to be alright?"

"I don't know. It's hard to tell with her. Of course, when cancer's involved, you can never be too sure. Anyone who makes it out a-okay can go ahead and call themselves one of the luckiest people in the world."

Tyler's words then and the tone in which he says them, it makes this whole situation seem hopeless. Well, more hopeless than it already feels. It doesn't and will not stop me from holding out for that light at the end of the tunnel. I'm not going to accept things as they are. There have been great strides in combatting this horrid, deadly disease. Surgery, medicine, chemotherapy, you name it. So what reason do I have to just put my hands up in surrender?

Somehow, someway, our situation will get better. My mother will get better. This much, I'm certain on.

"I hope she's one of those people," I mutter to myself.

The sentence manages to reach my brother's ears because I hear him say, "Me too, sis."

We say nothing else for the rest of the car ride home.

Soon we arrive at a quiet little suburb outside of town. The houses are lined up on either side of the road. They are arranged so uniformly that they come off as boring. Even the cars are all intricately organized. Almost like this place were a playset.

The car parks at our driveway, Tyler shutting the engine off and pulling the key out of the ignition. I scramble out of my seat, grab my backpack and saunter across our lawn, briefly immersing myself in the fresh cut grass. At the door, I fish for my key and a pair of earbuds to plug into my phone. Carefully I insert the key, and the hickory door opens with a twist of the knob.

I glance over my shoulder and see Tyler fetching something from the trunk. Going inside, I hang my backpack on one of the hooks to my right and proceed into the hallway, my steps cautious. Before moving any further, I stop and search for a song to play on my phone.

With my gadget firm in my paw, I head up the staircase in front of me. To my immediate right is my mother's room. I expect her to be inside…

Unsurprisingly, I find her there, and in bed to boot. My mother, Miriam. A middle-aged fox whose complexion is as arid as a desert. She must have just returned from her chemotherapy if she's lying in bed at this moment.

Stomach cancer causes noticeable problems. Her abdomen stings frequently, and there's never any indication as to when it'll happen. Eating becomes a chore in and of itself, which forces me or Tyler to chop up her food into pieces so small you can't see them at all. Okay, I might be exaggerating on that bit, but you get the point. And that's not even going into the dizzy spells and regurgitations. I'd say seven times out of ten she has to hold her paw against her head or run to a trash can or toilet or sink to throw up.

In the three months that she's had this disease, these symptoms have gotten progressively worse. I wonder if the trip to the hospital has actually helped.

But the question is, what about the other problems?

"Hey there," Mom greets, her utterance as dull as her expression.

"Hey. How was chemo?"

She groans at the mention of the word. "Don't remind me. I feel like a science fair project." A statement like that is supposed to be funny, but she says it repulsively that it prevents anyone from laughing. Not that I would.

"You feeling okay?" I ask her, approaching her on dainty feet.

"Oh yeah, I'm feeling _much_ better," my mother remarks disdainfully. "By the way, where's your brother?"

"Still at the car, getting something, I guess." I shrug at her.

Mom lets out a groan the next second and rolls her eyes. Is being a prima donna another symptom of cancer or is it just her? I can't tell which of them is true.

"Goddamn it. He just picks the worst times to be useless, doesn't he?" She sits up against her headrest and buries her face in her paw.

"Take it easy on him, Mom. He's only one person."

Letting out a sigh, Mom looks away and comments, "Sure. Do me a favor, sweetie, and get my smokes from the nightstand."

I flinch where I stand, trying to process what I just heard her say. I want to make sure I'm not hallucinating. But I wish I were.

"What?" I exclaim, taken aback by her request.

"Did I stutter?"

"I thought you wanted to get better. What do you want me to get your cigarettes for?"

Her answer is snappy and feels like being struck by a whip. "Don't you give me any of that backtalk, little lady. When I tell you to do something, you do it. Do you understand? Try not to be your brother for your sake. Now gimme m' damn cigarettes, like I asked."

Fear has a firm grip on me and urges me to just obey her for now. I make to the nightstand adjacent to the door and dig my hand inside, pulling out the pack of cigarettes from inside the drawer among the perfume and cologne bottles and the hairclips and tweezers caught in between them. With a little bit of hesitation in me I hand the box to her, secretly hoping that she'd reconsider.

She doesn't.

She pops one in her mouth and takes the lighter from the other nightstand, firing it and the cigarette up. Amidst the coughing and wheezing that follows, she slips out one last snide comment to hammer it home.

"Tell me what I can and can't do with my body, will you?" she says, as if she wants me to hate her.

For all her efforts and all the times where I'm tempted to despise her guts, I can never bring myself to. At the end of the day, she's still my mother. She's the one giving me and Tyler a roof over our heads, putting clothes on our backs, food on the table and allowing us to study. I can't bring myself to throw that all away, even if she's unknowingly doing it herself. The more I try to repair things, the more I try to patch up the holes in this family, the worse it all seems afterwards…

Behind me, I feel my brother standing by the door with three plastic bags dangling from his paws. His eyes, his face, they're empty. They're hollow. Devoid of color. Of anything. How long has he been standing there?

Not that it matters to him or Mom, since he just takes a step into the room and shows himself to her.

"Got the groceries done, Mom," Tyler reports, lifting the bags into the air a little for our cranky mother to see. From one of these bags, he pulls out a cylindrical container and tosses it for her to catch in her paws, which she does. There are labels on every side of it, with a bunch of medical names that I can't pronounce for the life of me. "Doc says it should keep those cancer cells of yours in check. He also says you should take two a day—one in the morning, after getting up from bed, and one at night before going to bed."

Mom inspects every edge of the container, flipping the lid open and peeking her eye in it. She takes one capsule and inspects that, too.

"You got that?" asks Tyler, the chill in his voice making this cold and icy room colder and icier.

To Mom, the details he gave to her must have flown over her head. Her response to my brother's question proves just that, "Yeah, sure. Now go take care of the rest of that stuff, will ya? Both of you."

Tyler says nothing and just carries the groceries down to the kitchen. I help out and carry some of the load, putting the plastic bags on the dining table. I put every single item where they should be, moving back and forth between the table and the pantry and the refrigerator.

I take the opportunity to give my Woo Foo magic a try. To see how far I've come. I start by levitating a watermelon—not the best idea, I know—and setting it down just beside the sink. The film of beige-colored magic vanishes from the thing, and I am leaning against the table catching my breath. My pulsating heart pounds against my chest, and my head is overwhelmed by the exertion it has put into making the spell work. I pass a glimpse at my paws, and they're both still coated in Woo Foo energy.

Where I am now as far as my studies in the art goes, I'd be lucky enough to not completely pass out. My first time giving this power a try, that's exactly what had happened. But that's what I get for trying, for even thinking, to make a coffee table float. Everything beforehand had turned into a blur, an indiscernible smear. I didn't know where I was, what the time was, my brain was no better than an egg on a frying pan.

It took Tyler and one other member of my family to wake me up. I don't think I've ever seen my big brother scared witless. He was swearing, asking me question after question, so quickly that I had no chance to answer. But the most striking out of all the things he told me that day was his comparison between me and Mom.

Back then, I hadn't realized why I pushed myself the way I did. I was inclined to believe that I was just like any other kid. That I was so eager to learn. Aspiring to become something more, all in a short amount of time.

But that's not the only thing I'm eager about. I'm also eager to end this cancer that's afflicted not just my mother, but this family too. I'm convinced that I'll find what I'm looking for if I unravel the secrets of Woo Foo for myself. Somewhere in this age-old art is what I want. What I need. And I've gone too far down to turn back now.

As for that other person…

The groceries packed away, I head over to the glass door and exit to the backyard. There I see an old fox on a rocking chair, watching over the grass and a flower bed sporting a fine collection of flowers. She's unlike the rest of us; whereas I, my brother and my mother are arctic foxes, she is a red fox. The outer parts of her fur are a lighter variation of red, and her arms and legs are black as ash. Merely thinking about her causes the strife, the worry and the misgivings in me to melt away. For the most part.

Eagerly I approach her and greet her as I always do.

"How's it going, Nana?" I say to her, affecting a brave face for her.

"So far so good. And how was your last day of school?" Nana replies, caressing my face.

"Pretty good. Sorta."

"And by 'sorta', you mean…what? 'Finally, I thought it would never end!'" She exaggerates the phrase with gestures of her paws. "Is that it?"

"No, that's not it. And it's not really the 'last' last day. But yeah, Woo Foo's actually pretty cool when you get down to it."

"Well, if you're having the time of your life, then who am I to complain?" she nuzzles her snout against mine and pinches my chin.

Nana's the sort of person you just want to be with, no matter who you may be. You can always count on her to make a dark situation just a little bit brighter. Unlike a lot of people who smile just to get by, nothing about her smile is artificial or made up. You might be asking yourself if Nana is her real name. And no, it's not. She has a name, but we prefer to call her something more proper. Besides, I don't like how it sounds coming out of my mouth.

"So what have we got today?" I say, slapping my paws together and rubbing them vigorously.

Nana passes to me a pair of gloves and a watering can, which I use to sprinkle each flower, each stem and mass of petals. As I reach the other side of the flower bed, a small yet potent glow washes over me. A bright, pure, warm feeling makes itself known, and I'm almost hypnotized by it.

Removing the gloves and setting the watering can down on the ground, I inspect the source of this illumination. It catches Nana's attention as well, and she stands up from her rocking chair and joins me.

"What is it?" I say to her. It's hard to tell where it's coming from with all of these flowers in the way.

Nana searches the bed and points to a certain blue flower over at the leftmost part of the bed. The glisten on its petals make it seem like they're made of crystal. Its very core, abundant with pollen. "There."

"Oh, my gosh. Would you look at that?"

"Now that's something you don't see every day," Nana comments, her breath taken away by this floral marvel.

I have to agree with her. I didn't think it was possible, but here it is. It's something straight out of a dream, out of a fantasy. A fairy tale. An urban legend.

This is reality.

"Nana?" I say to her, tucking myself in her arms after she puts them around me. "Let's make this our little secret, okay?"

"You got it, baby girl."

Something this rare, something this precious, can only be treated with the most delicate of care. Just like with me and this Woo Foo power inside of me, I need to cultivate it. I have to let it run its course. Let it blossom and provide it with guidance. With sustenance.

This is what I had been looking for. What I need.

What this family needs…

* * *

 _Yo_

You know that feeling where you've just awoken from a nightmare, and you go through a day, and that day is suspiciously, eerily, similar to the nightmare you had? Have you ever felt something like that? Do you know what it means to feel that way?

Well…I don't. But this has to be the closest that I can get to that. Except here, there is _no_ fine line between fantasy and reality. No, that's not the case with me. Fantasy and reality are one and the same in this circumstance. Everything I have ever done. Everything I have ever said. Every emotion that I have ever affected. Every thought conjured up. Whether I mean them or not. They have been crawling along my skin as of late. Injecting themselves into my mind, and projecting themselves unto me at my most vulnerable. At those moments where I am convinced that I am at peace. They wait for the opportune moment to strike, and when that opportunity does arise, when they do strike, the hurt that one would normally feel is magnified a million times over.

For every action, there's an equal or opposite reaction. I'm not the brightest person in the world, but I know for a fact that this is a universal truth. That it applies to me more than anyone out there right now.

It's all coming full circle now. I've always thought that every decision I've made has been the right one. That I am somehow exempt from consequences. Among the many mistakes I have made, that is probably my greatest one of all. Dodging every repercussion rather than taking them head on. Years and years and years of guilt buried in the Earth below have manifested into a monster so heinous that it's indescribable. A monster born of my hand. A monster that has come to bite me in the ass.

And do you want to know what the worst part is? In trying to sweep these faults under my feet, I actually think that I'm confronting them. Yes, I was that stupid. That foolish. Maybe I still am.

But this is also my second chance. _My_ opportunity. If there really is some God or cosmic being in charge with how the world operates, then I wouldn't be getting this chance in the first place. I wouldn't be forgiven so easily.

There is still so much to learn. Not just for a dedicated Woo Foo Knight, but for a Woo Foo Master as well. My student and daughter has proven it in her bravery. In her devotion to her brother. All her shortcomings, all her faults, both big and small, they're working in tandem to make her a much better person than she is. Mine, too. Mine are working towards that same goal.

I guess it's about time I stopped ignoring. I guess it's about time I started acting. For his sake. For mine

For ours…

My mind made up, I stand from my bed and exchange looks with my reflection on the mirror. In his eyes I can see a hardened will. In his eyes, I see a determination steeling itself. I need to see this through. I _will_.

Without wasting another second, I sprint down the staircase followed by the one that leads to the basement. I navigate the darkened room, flip the switch on and stand before a giant door enveloped by a film of magic energy. The same door that my daughter entered a month ago.

How long has it been since I ventured in there? Judging from the goosebumps on my arm, I'd say a _really_ long time now.

Gathering my focus, I take one step back from the door and form a gesture with my hand. _Tsūro o kanaette kudasai._ These words sound in my mind first, but soon manifest in my speech.

" _Tsūro o kanaette kudasai. Tsūro o kanaette kudasai. Tsūro o kanaette kudasai."_

'Please grant me passage'. 'Please grant me passage'. 'Please grant me passage'.

The veil vanishes like shattered glass, magic shards appearing where it once was before disappearing themselves. As if it acknowledges my will, the doors part to the sides, allowing me into the hollowed chamber.

No one except for those versed in Woo Foo know of the true extent of its prowess. Its power. All these common, outlandish items. A toilet brush, an adult diaper and safety pin, a bladed zucchini, a sundress and a pair of slippers, among other odd objects… While they have their purpose, the weapons before me are the real treasures of our ancient art.

And even then, there are still the up-and-coming warriors who've yet to learn of this incredible heritage. This monumental legacy.

Deep into the chamber I venture until I come across the weapon I'm seeking. Or should I say 'weapons'? Inside a glass, cylinder capsule they hang. A pair of bronze gauntlets with thick, glistening knuckles. One of the more ancient and more respected of these treasures.

One of the twelve Woo Foo Talismans, a _Kami no Gofu_. Its name, like its kin, inspires both marvel and unease in one who gazes at it. And also like its kin, its supposed power is confined to fables and urban myths.

"I just hope I don't mess this one up," I say to myself before levitating the glass off of the base. With every ounce of energy I can muster, I recite the proper incantation.

"Woo Foo Elders far and near, hear my cries and pleas loud and clear. Plains, mountains, marsh and hills, may the Earth beneath my feet bow to my will. Arise, _Terra Manus_ : Earth Hand!"

The ground trembles when the weapons' name is spoken, rocking to and fro. Continuing until it comes to a stop. Both of the gauntlets are giving off their holy green glow. The light hovers to where I stand, and in a sudden click, they vanish to reveal the gauntlets firmly fitted around my hands.

This is it.

With a clench of my fist, I head out the way I came from, hardening my face to condition myself for the upcoming difficult affair. Somewhere in my chest, in my heart, is an apology. It doesn't get simpler than that. It's waiting to be spoken.

And it will be. If it's the last thing I do, I will tell him these long overdue words.

* * *

 _Yang & Lupin_

The air around us is filled by our grunts, yells and the rushing sound of our soaring fists and feet. There's also the occasional glistening noise whenever magic comes into play. They paint this very picture that my student and I stand in.

Yang leaps at me while bringing down and straight right hand, which I deflect using my arm without losing footing. The impact does make my foot slide along the ground, if only ever so slightly. Seeing that his attack has barely left a scratch on me, he somersaults away from me and sends two blasts of Woo Foo energy streaming towards me. The best that his efforts give him is a graze on my trench coat, which I just laugh off as a means to goad him.

Anticipating his response, I stand my ground and retaliate, the two of us entering an exhilarating exchange of blows and point blank spells, the result of which is a half-decimated field with charred grass and swiftly withered flowers.

He's seen much improvement since I took him under my wing. His punches and kicks are more hard-hitting than they were, and he's gone from barely conjuring a flash of light to summoning an incinerating stream. The look in his eyes has also undergone tremendous change. His gaze is one of hardened determination, and he wears it more often than I'd initially thought. I don't know whether to be proud or weary, so I decide to be both.

Lately, I've been leaning more towards the latter. Ever since I gave him the Woo Foo Grimoire, he's grown to be fond of it. Relying on it more than he should. More than I hoped he would. It's no different from someone turning to drugs; they get their first kick, and once they get more of their fix, they can't stop. They'll keep going and going until their body gives out. Until they reach that point of no return, and the effects become too grave to reverse.

Literally the moment I think about that very artifact, my student relents from his offense to call upon it. Swirling above his arm and expanding at a rapid pace, a jet black cloud that is unpleasantly palpable to all five senses. After the Grimoire has finished activating, he goes back into his attack, his movement swifter, his strikes more forceful. Every time he turns the thing on, his eyes dilate into a maniacal, flesh-hungry stare. And they do so again.

I need Yang to take into consideration everything I've told him. What I've told him about his borrowed power. About the difference between power fueled by conviction and power without conviction. Yet I can't force it down his throat, else I risk losing his favor. The same way _he_ lost _my_ favor long ago. I told him that I have faith in him, and I do. I know that he'll pull through. That he'll overcome this phase and see the worth of his true power. That everything will fall into place when the time is right.

As I look into those exaggerated eyes of his, I realize that this has become more than just a training session.

But faith can only do so much. It can only last for so long. And _my_ faith has been stretched and pulled back and forth. I guess I'm the one to blame for just believing in things blindly. Except now, I'm more certain than ever.

Yang throws another punch, this one imbued with the strength that Fog has to offer, and I guard against it. But it requires me to use both of my paws, which leaves me wide open for an incoming kick that whacks me in the face, sending me flying and tumbling along the grass. Blood trickles from the edge of my lips, the metallic taste cementing itself on my tongue. He follows up by commanding an array of arrows to charge at me.

In answer to his attack, I beckon my iaidō blade and begin cutting each arrow down with speedy slashes. Precision like this is time-consuming to master, but is a work of art when perfected.

Like a swarm of flies, the arrows fall one at a time before my swordplay. They keep coming in droves, but I manage to keep up with them, never missing a beat with my slashes. _Can't let my focus slip_ , I think.

I repeat the sentence over and over, only to have a stray arrow scrape my arm. I grasp the wound for dear life to prevent any blood from getting out. At the other side of the field, Yang advances slowly, another myriad of arrows floating at the ready. His sclera is no longer white. Instead, it's as dark as the bank of Fog that floats around him.

On his right arm, the Grimoire has expanded in size, covering his entire lower arm and almost half of his upper arm. With the way it looks right now, it's as if it's a part of him. Literally. He extends the arm with his hand open, drawing the arrows towards it in a formation. I roll to the side just in time to avoid the incoming volley, using the ensuing small window of time to prepare a spell.

"You were doing so well," I comment, disappointed. "Don't do this to me now."

My paw glows with potent magic energy, which I fling at him. I aim for his arm, and my magic hits its mark. The Fog cloud is reduced to nothingness, and the Grimoire to its glove form. Yang falls forward, his paws catching his descent. While he's getting himself together, I run over to where the Grimoire has landed and retrieve it. In my possession, the thing reverts to its original, black spherical state.

I hurry over to my student and tend to his need. I put one of his arms around my shoulders and one of mine behind his back, his breaths heavy. Synchronized with his racing heart.

"Slow and steady," I urge him, giving him a pat on the back. "Can you stand up?"

He makes an attempt to, but I hold on to him anyway just in case.

"Where is it?" says Yang as his thought process normalizes.

"What? Oh no! This thing is off-limits for the rest of the day," I say to him, my answer harsh.

"Gimme a break!" He pushes me away. "It wasn't _that_ bad." He changes expressions when I show him the gash on my arm. And his frustration is swapped out for guilt. "Oh."

"That's all you can say…? 'Oh'?"

He throws his paws up at me in surrender. "I'm sorry! It's not gonna happen again."

"If you're really sorry, you're going to stop acting like a spoiled little punk and listen to me this time around." I point to my wound again, and the words that follow are spoken without any relent on my end. "You deal me a couple of scratches like this, you could even give me a concussion for all I care. That's one thing. But what happens to you when you rely too much on the Grimoire is a different problem altogether." To further hammer the point home, I take out the Grimoire, which is still brimming with Fog. "This isn't a toy, Yang. Those bamboo swords, poles and nunchucks you've been swinging around like a circus act is nothing compared to this. I told you that you were ready. I told you that I have faith in you. Don't make me see that faith go to waste."

Yang averts his eyes from me and ponders, his expression softening and hardening in one continuous loop. It finally settles on hardened, and he directs it to me.

"Y'know, for someone who has a lot of beef with a certain grumpy old panda, you're sure acting a lot like him," he utters, as if I had slapped him in the face.

He walks away, leaving me with my own bit of contemplation to take care of. I put the Grimoire back in my pocket. This has officially become a game of chess. Both I and Yang are caught in a stalemate. I have many things to say that will disprove his claim, but in a way, it's still right.

What Yo and I had back then was something special. The two of us were more than just a student and master. Every day that he and I spent together meant the entire world to me. Whether it was one of his lessons, or him teaching me how to ride my very first bicycle, or us just lounging around in the dojo living room to enjoy a late night movie together. Even back then, I knew that he enjoyed himself whenever he played the role of 'Dad'. And despite our difference in species, I was always willing to play the role of 'Son'.

It was to the point where that it just might have been real. Maybe. Who knows? In another reality, we really might have been related by blood.

As far as Yang is concerned, the one or so months that I've known him feel like years. Decades, in fact. Seeing him, a kid with the entire world ahead of him, the good, the bad and the in-between, made me see the chasm in me that I could never fill. And him seeking my help, my guidance, it closed up that chasm. I'm knowingly playing the 'Dad' role, whereas he's obliviously playing the 'Son' role.

That's something I don't want to lose. Something I want to preserve with everything I have. Something that my old master had but wasn't capable, wasn't willing, to save.

 _That_ is how he and I are nothing alike. I'm not going to stand idly and let these comparisons slide. I am not Yo in any stretch of imagination. Yo is a coward. A fool. An imbecile. A worthless, pathetic shell of someone that was once great. Someone who used to command respect.

Refusing to repeat his mistake, I make my way across the field and catch up with my student.

"Yang, wait," I call out to him, causing him to stop in his path. "I didn't mean to come off that way. Sorry if I gave you the wrong idea. I really do have faith in you. I just want to be the teacher you deserve. The teacher that my old one couldn't be."

"Okay…?" says Yang tentatively, narrowing his eyes a little. He manages to crack at least something resembling a smile and runs with it for his next few words. "Listen, I get it. I get where you're coming from. But I'll tell you right now that you're doing a damn fine job."

"Sure." I roll my eyes and grin along with him.

"No, I'm being honest."

Continuing on the way back to the cave, I shrug and say in a teasing tongue, "If you say so. Still, I do want to lay down some ground rules. I'll still allow you enough freedom to do as you please, but we're going to have to set a few boundaries so that you don't get too carried away. Deal?"

Yang rushes to my side and walks along with me. "Deal." He gives me a paw, and we shake on our agreement.

* * *

These past few weeks have been some of the most challenging I've ever faced. I've been pushed like I've never been pushed before, and each day that passes by, it only gets harder. My physical, spiritual and mental faculties are a sword forged in a tower of fire, tempered with repeated slams of a hammer on an anvil and honed day in and day out on a whetstone. The blade has only sharpened, the tip more pointed and less visible to the naked eye. It's at this point where I'm now in the firm belief that if I remained at the dojo, I wouldn't have come this far. Leaving my old home for this new one was the best decision I've made my whole life.

Through Lupin's guidance, I am ten times—a hundred times, a thousand times, ten thousand times—the Woo Foo Knight I once was. Beyond just being able to throw a punch and a kick, every part of my body can be classified as a separate weapon. Whether it's my knees, my elbows, my shoulders, my head or even my ears, my Woo Foo Might isn't what it used to be. On top of that, I'm certain that I can stand toe to toe with my sister in the Magic department. A bold claim, I know, but hey, if I can back it up…

My opportunities to give my newfound skills a try aren't just bound to lessons and sparring sessions. Lupin and I have ventured from one town to the next to demonstrate what Woo Foo prowess really is. And by 'demonstrate', I mean I bring these places to their knees with what I can do. Decimating anything and everything in my path, from buildings to cars to anyone who dares stand up to me.

More often than not, these brave—or should I say 'stupid'—people are the local police. What exactly is going on in their heads that's led to them thinking they even stand a ghost of a chance? They don't. And the second one of them points a gun at me and opens fire, game over…

Once in a while, I get some random schmuck taking up some other inferior fighting style getting a rise out of me, claiming that Woo Foo is nothing but 'smoke and mirrors'. 'All growl, no bite', as some of them put it. If memory serves me, I think the guy was using Taekwondo; his uniform had the Korean flag on it. When they find out exactly how sharp my bite is, that's when they shut up…forever. Losers. They not only get to see me rock their homes, but they get to be part of the demolition themselves.

Each day that ends in victory is a good day.

Today is no exception. I've just finished bringing down another town over up north. Not only that, but the chump who took me on afterwards wasn't worth breaking a sweat over. That's what he gets for talking big and not backing it up. And I was just about to believe his boast that Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu was hot shit. Well, whatever. As far as I know, he's now a failure both in life and death.

I got a nifty souvenir, too – the black belt he wore during our fight. It's all tattered and ripped up here and there, and I can smell some of the idiot's blood on it, but that just adds to the novelty. And come on. How could I turn down a fricking black belt?

I'm on a bus ride back to the town, keeping to myself and admiring my trophy. No one dares to bat an eye at me or approach me, too intimidated by the sight of my sword to talk. The driver was a bit of a bastard, but it's nothing a threat on his life couldn't fix.

It's a shame that Lupin chose today to not accompany me. Said that he had some housekeeping to do back at the cave. What housekeeping? It's a cave. What's he going to do? Spruce a boulder up and use it as a coat rack?

Eh. That's probably a bit too nutty for his taste. For all I know, he could really be doing some housekeeping, fixing up the sheets in both our rooms, adding a few more touches with the money he's earning over at his bartender job. He wasn't particularly clear what it was he was going to do, but he sounded convincing enough that I just left it there.

At any rate, the bus arrives at my stop, and I get off here. I make it to the cave after a fifteen minute walk. Every time I enter this place, it always comes off as hollow, even with the renovations made. Maybe it's the narrow hallway for an entrance, maybe it's the fact that it's a cave. I have no idea, nor do I care to worry about any further.

Inside, I hear what I assume is Lupin's voice. Part of me thinks that it's sobbing, and another part of me thinks that it's laughter. Going deeper doesn't make it any clearer.

"Lupin?" I say, holding the black belt with one hand and the hilt of my sword with the other. "Master? Are you here?"

My questions float around the cave and remain unanswered. I tighten my paw around my hilt, staying vigilant for any potential threats.

When I get to where the noises are coming from, I find that there's no danger here whatsoever. Instead, all I see is Lupin in my room, sitting at my table. In front of a desktop computer that I had asked for – something for all the hard work I've put in. He's laughing uncontrollably, planting his head on top of the desk and pounding its surface with his fist. His gut just about to burst.

I let my sword go and enter my room carefully. I see an Internet browser open on the screen and a video playing at the moment. I also see a video playing on the browser, but Lupin's crescendo of laughter makes it hard to even make out what the video is supposed to be.

"What are you doing?" I ask my teacher, chuckling at the absurdity of the sight.

Catching his breath, Lupin looks behind his shoulder to address my question. "Oh, hey. You're back," he says, wiping a tear from his eye. "Y'know, I had my doubts, but I'm glad that I bought you this 'computer'. And this Internet thing is just…wow. It's mind-blowing. Where have these things been my entire life?"

A better question would have to be where has _he_ been this entire time?

"See? What'd I tell you?" I say, moving over to his left and leaning down to see the computer screen.

The video in question shows a sharply-dressed man rambling on about a movie that he'd just seen, and expressing his opinions in an overly exaggerated manner. Whenever a plot hole arises or a character makes a baffling choice or just a stupid idea comes up, he points it out by yelling at the top of his lungs. Sometimes, it'll cut into a segment that's supposed to copy bits and pieces from the movie he's talking about. It's supposed to be a review, but it's also for show. It's meant to be funny, and it succeeds at that. If my master's hysterical responses is any indication of that.

Speaking of Lupin, I have never seen him this excitable. I mean, I've known him well enough already to know that he has a fun side to him, both in and out of battle. That he can find the time to make a wisecrack in the midst of a fight, and that he can be passionate about his favorite things, like his music. But this is the most enthusiasm I've ever seen from him.

"GODDAMN THIS MOVIE!" the guy in the video screams, whacking his head with his hat. Driven mad by the scenes he's showing us. He then cackles like a lunatic, in a rhythmic pattern at that, before some guy off-camera hands him a pill and a glass of water to help him calm down.

This gets another round of laughter from Lupin, and I wonder how long he's been keeping this up. I'm surprised that he hasn't passed out yet. That he even has enough breath in him to guffaw this wildly.

 _Okay…_

I decide to stick around and watch the rest of the video with him, and I laugh once or twice during the whole thing. Half of the time, it's at the video itself, and the other half, it's out of amusement for Lupin. It's like this is his first real experience with computers. With the Internet.

Oh, wait…

The video finishes with a goofy musical number, complete with green screen-generated effects in the background, and that's where Lupin just flat out loses it.

He doesn't stop laughing even after the video's over. Finally, after about two minutes, he calms himself down, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, breathing in and out. He leans back.

"You alright now?" I ask with a grin.

He looks at me. "I should be, yeah. Well, that was entertaining, to say the least. Thanks so much for that, Yang."

"Uh…sure. If you say so."

"Oh, shit, we don't have any food. I completely forgot. I meant to go out and do a bit of shopping." As the epiphany dawns on him, he smacks his face hard. "I am so sorry, Yang."

Again, I chuckle, shaking my head. "That's alright." For whatever reason, I'm not mad like I usually am when things don't go my way. I guess with Lupin, I can make an exception. One hundred years of limbo really does a number on you. Just as I can learn so much from him, I can also help him adjust to these present times.

"How about this?" Lupin stands up from my chair. "You and me, we get some takeout. Your choice, my treat." He shrugs at me, giving his offer some added effect.

I can't help but smile at him and nod approvingly. "Sounds good. I'm in the mood for some Chinese tonight."

Putting an arm around me, Lupin leads me out of the room and out of the cave. "No way," he says, grinning cheekily. "That's exactly what I had in mind."

"Pfft, yeah right."

"No, I'm being serious. I know this awesome Chinese joint I'm sure you're going to fall head over heels for.

"Must be a really good Chinese joint, then."

"You bet it is. If we're lucky, it should still be there. Their stir fry pepper beef is just…ooh, heaven. And wait 'til you try the dumplings. You will not want to have anything else for the next week."

He rambles on about the Chinese place, and I just listen to him intently as we make our way there. He may not realize it, but I move myself closer to him, delighting myself in his touch. In the softness of his fur against mine. It may just be the child in me, but there's a warmth in the way he holds me that I can't ignore. It puts me at ease. It's reassuring. Like a lullaby being sung when I'm about to fall asleep.

I guess he isn't the only one who has an emptiness in him. And I guess I have more than one chasm in me that I want to fill. It only took me until now to understand what that hole needed to be filled with. Having my new master right next to me fills me up.

No wonder why I was disappointed that he couldn't join me today.

With everything I've learned so far, with the progress I've made in this long and seemingly unending road, there remains a few needs that I can't deny. That I can't neglect.

* * *

The wheel of fate has been spun. The cogs are in motion, meshing together fluidly, no one piece out of place.

Each life in this little charade is intertwined. A brother and sister, a teacher and his student… The sins of old that await rectification… A hope that burns in a child's beating heart… In more ways than one, these lives are attached. And their connection only serves to bring them together, however that may be.

The cards have been dealt on the table. Many questions remain. How far will these souls push their fortunes? What will become of them after tempting fate one too many times?

Where will their separate roads eventually lead them?

The answers seem so distant, but with each day that fleets by, they look to be just a little bit closer…


	15. Looks like I've got company

Chapter 15 – Looks like I've got company

This afternoon is shaping up to be a very uneventful one, and I can't say I'm not disappointed by it. I have been wandering around this city for nearly an hour now, with rock music blasting from my headphones into my ears. Every street I pass by, every block I cross, they are all devoid of people. Places that you'd expect to be teeming with activity are empty. The local park, which is pretty large compared to the one back in my town, is so barren you could probably mistake it for a cemetery. The city's shopping precinct, with its rows of stalls along the street and its humongous mall, doesn't look any better.

Looking at these stalls and how their respective wares have just been left there on display, I'd assume that they were evacuated…

'Evacuated'. That could be it.

All of the citizens must have gotten wind of my impending arrival. This immense emptiness and pervasive cold air tell me that. Naturally, they chose the most logical course of action: escape.

Who could blame them? If they were to stay, it would only end poorly for them. I've made one hell of a reputation for myself, one that will disseminate from one settlement to another. From one part of the world to the next.

Even now, I can see my face in a breaking news bulletin on a television set that's been left on in one of the shops. The asshole anchorman is painting me in as harsh a light as he can, so as to let the public know what a menace I am to society. So as to inculcate a fear of me into the minds of everyone watching at home.

Through the windowpane, I see my reflection affecting a smirk at me. I chuckle and continue on my path.

They can all say what they want about me. They can even call me a spawn of the devil himself, for all I care. And if these lowly, pathetic people want to run, they can run. But who's to say that I can't raise hell even if there's no one around to watch? If anything, it'll really draw up a crowd.

I make it to an old-looking building with a long staircase and a row of pillars at its entrance. Must be the City Hall. Perfect.

From behind my back, I draw my sword from its holster. The sheer weight of the weapon is no longer cumbersome to me. It has become nonexistent. I lift the thing into the sky, but just as I begin to bring it down in a slash, I'm stopped by a crawling feeling along my fur. It's a deeply-rooted feeling, like I'm not alone. Like I haven't been alone all along. As if it's been shadowing me, tracing my every step.

I gaze over my shoulder. Atop one of the buildings I had just passed is a figure made obscure by the sunlight above him. But it doesn't matter since I easily make out this silhouette's features. A long, wagging tail, a pair of pointed ears with erect tufts of fur and a coat blown by the hesitant breeze. Last but not least, it's carrying a weapon on its shoulder. Slimmer and smaller than mine, concealed in its sheath.

Now that I've discerned this supposed 'mysterious person', I'm not weary. Not at all.

I remove my headphones from my ears. I'm annoyed…

"Okay, I know you said that you're gonna be with me from now on, but damn it, this is ridiculous," I complain, gazing up to exchange looks with him. "Would it kill you to not make yourself too obvious?"

"Hmph. Don't mind me, I'm just your audience for today. It just so happens that I got myself the best seat in the house," Lupin remarks with a grin, sitting on the edge of a roof with one leg crossed over the other. "Oh, shoot. Where oh where may I get myself a nice hot bag of popcorn?"

"Ngh. If you're gonna be here, could you at least dial down the patronizing by a couple of notches." And by that, I mean stop patronizing me, period. "I don't like being thrown off my focus."

Lupin chuckles at me. "Temper, temper. I wonder where you pick up such bad behavior. If your focus is slipping from the smallest things, then that's not my problem, is it?"

Looks like he's not going to stop any time soon. It's like dealing with a mentally-impaired person, except worse. For the love of God… There doesn't appear to be anything I can do about that, so I just accept it and move on, fitting my headphones over my ears and cranking up the volume on my phone. That's the only thing I _can_ do.

Continuing down my path, I spare a glimpse at my right glove. At the sword in its clutches and the glove that's fitted around it, snug as bug in a rug. The Woo Foo Grimoire. I've already made my decision about using this artifact. Yet ever since I donned it, a number of occurrences have happened upon me that persuade me to reconsider. To get rid of this glove before it's too late.

Pfft. Like that's really going to work. As if I'll change my mind now. As if I'll really go back on my word. On my warrior's pride.

To hell with that.

The Governor's Blade and the Grimoire aren't the only toys I've brought to the party. Inside the pockets of my jacket, a permeating glow emanates from both sides. I fish out the sources with both of my paws. On my right is a cardinal shine, on my left a yellow brilliance. Another set of treasures that Lupin has inexplicably kept to himself. Where does he keep all this stuff? More importantly, how has he been able to given his imprisonment in the pit?

The cardinal light emits an energy that burns in my palm, while the yellow light sends a sensation that tingles my skin. My nerves. My bones. I open my paws and see a pair of diamond-shaped stones wreathed in currents of fire and electricity.

These are two of the Twelve Woo Foo Crystals. Fire and Lightning.

Behind me, I sense Lupin's presence looking down with watchful eyes, as any dutiful teacher does.

"How are they coming along?" he asks. I don't turn around, believing him to be at the same spot he was, still.

"I don't know. I've yet to break them in," I respond, gazing at the crystals as if I were hypnotized. Entranced by their apparition.

"Can you feel their energy coursing in you? Fueling you with unspeakable power? It's exciting, isn't it? Makes you wanna go insane."

It does. This power. I feel it flowing in me. Ingraining itself in my mind. In my heart. Growing. Like a V8 engine filled with high octane gasoline. On top of this Grimoire that's already in my possession and the Governor's Blade, I can bring a mountain crumbling down into dust. Challenge a giant. Or better yet, challenge a god.

I'm more eager to cut loose now. More eager to give this power, this strength, a test drive. Just because there aren't any people to try this out on doesn't mean I can't try it out on something else.

Here's some good target practice: a bunch of trees in the park. Taking position, I point the Crystal of Fire at one tree. A rocket of flame shoots from the artifact, engulfing the tree in one fell swoop. Reducing it to ash. Another tree goes down after a torrent of electricity strikes it. The rest of the trees are disintegrated, turning the park into a worthless, ashen pile of land.

After I stand easy, Lupin claps at my efforts with a mocking stare in his eyes. "Good job, Yang. You just killed a bunch of perfectly healthy trees," he states plainly, his voice lacking in flavor. I roll my eyes, putting up with his teasing, when he turns his attention to the horizon. "What have we got here?"

"What is it?" I say, going into position.

"You're not alone. I'm seeing two—no, three. Actually, make that four. And they're coming your way. Alright, kid. Let's put what you've learned to the test."

"Way ahead of you." I draw my sword, twirling it by its hilt with relative ease. Resting it on top of my shoulders. That same arm I'm holding the sword with is howling – my Grimoire harmonious with my desire for battle. In my pockets, my two crystals are giving off their shine, also resonating with my fighting drive.

"Good luck. I'll be watching from the boxed seats." Lupin vanishes with a Foo-portation spell that takes him to another vantage point. I don't bother trying to find where he is, knowing that I'll still be in his sights regardless.

My feet carry me further into the town. Except for my sword, my weapons continue making their noises and giving off their glows. The Grimoire pulsates like a heart, at nearly the same pace as mine.

Relying on instinct is as good as relying on nothing but a specific skill. A true warrior depends on both it and their sound judgment. On impulse and logical reasoning. What my own reasoning is telling me is that these pulsations are the Grimoire egging me on to using it. After the last fiasco that I just went through, I think it won't hurt to exercise a little caution.

Actually, and I hate to admit it, but since the Grimoire threatened to take hold of my body, I _have_ been cautious. I never showed it to Lupin, my reservations. The volatility of this object is not something to take lightly. Like a pet defying its master. I have to stay on top of this. Just a small fix would be nice, but I don't want anything like that happening ever again.

Eventually, I make it to a smaller part of the city where the streets are narrower and the buildings not as tall or grandiose. Just a bunch of small establishments – the business district, I'm assuming. I'm closing in on an intersection, when a hideous-looking pile of mush drops from the sky, as if God himself were taking a puke. It's a sickly green in color—because, why not agitate my gag reflexes?—and slowly rises from the ground.

"What the hell?" I mutter.

A portion of this…goop takes the shape of a head with a pair of long ears, those of a rabbit, and burning ruby eyes. Below the eyes and a brown spot that I guess is its nose is a wicked smile bearing a fang each on both sides. The face rings a bell.

This sure is an…interesting turn of events, but…

"Yuck?" I say, surprised in a way that I can't really say.

"Why, hello, little Yangy," greets Yuck, two streams of slime on either side solidifying into arms. "This is such a pleasant surprise."

 _Have you looked in a mirror lately, bro? Ain't nothing pleasant about it in the least_ , I think in the back of my head.

"I have no idea what the hell is going on here, but I'm not here for you. Now if you don't mind, scooch on over," I demand, planting the tip of my sword on the ground.

"Wait a minute, did I just hear you right? You expect _me_ to scooch?" He exaggerates my command as if I were kidding. Bad news for him: I'm not. "What? Is the wittle Woo Foo bunny wabbit, who supposedly leveled one town and city after another, too scared for a fight? Now that I've hit the jackpot, you think I'm just gonna walk away? That's where you're wrong, buddy. I have a score to settle with you and your sister. Speaking of which, where _is_ the bitch?"

Like I have any obligation to answer that. Again, too bad for him, I'm not going to. And 'bunny'? Is he for real? I really hate being called that. With all of my toys at my disposal, that's a certified death wish.

But I play it cool and force my anger into passive-aggressive laughter.

"Call me a bunny again. I dare you. Call me that, one more time." I sheathe my sword behind my back and raise my Grimoire at him so that he can see it. "See where it gets you with me, big guy." As I deliver my warning to him, I drop any vestige of small talk and glower at him.

"That's what I'm talking about. Let's dance, bunny." He transforms his arms into two separate weapons. The left arm is now a sword, and the other a shotgun.

My sister can wait…

"Yang!" Or maybe she won't have to…

Speak of the she-devil.

I look to where her voice came from. Five silhouettes—a dog, an ogre, a chicken, a tree stump and a rabbit—all poised before me, with the sun behind their backs.

First, Yuck, then these people, these kids my age, who I often called my friends. At least, I used to.

What a clusterfuck this whole affair is quickly becoming.

I was banking on my sister and friends to show up, what with news of my raids on multiple settlements spreading like wildfire, but all of us together at the same place, at the same time, is too specific for my liking.

The five of them race into the scene, armed to the teeth. Lina in particular is carrying one hell of a weapon on her shoulders – an enormous boomerang named The Spark of Nature: Silent Dragonfly. _Shizuka Tonbō_. A Woo Foo Talisman attuned to Nature.

A power as great as this isn't so easily put into anyone's hands. This boomerang appointing Lina as a worthy wielder is a sick joke. It has to be.

"And Yuck?" asks Yin as the guy comes into her view. "What is going on here?"

Yuck has no answer to give her. What he does, though, is widen his piercing smile, bearing his full set of fangs at what has unfolded.

"Oh, this day keeps getting better and better," he remarks, his appendages reverting back to arms. He rubs his paws together and then punches a fist in his palm, cracking his neck, except without any sound of bones. Just the constant dripping of the liquid substance he's composed of.

"You just can't keep away, can you?" I say, ignoring what Yuck's just said. Raising my sword at Yin and our— _her_ friends.

"You know me very well by now, Yang," is Yin's answer. "I'm taking you back home. _We're_ taking you back home."

Right now, the only people in this world are me and Yin. The world itself has been emptied out. Stripped of everything that has given it appearance. Life. Until it is but a hollow, pitch black space.

Facing her down, looking her in the eye like this. I can't ask for anything more.

It would be easy to impale her with this sword. To roast her with these Crystals in my possession. To leave her a bloody heap with the use of my Grimoire. But that would be _too_ easy. I want to make the most of this. To make her own faults as a person more pronounced, just like she did with me every chance she got.

"Poor Yin," I say after several seconds of silence. "Poor, stupid Yin. For a genius, it's amazing how little you really know about me."

"Yang…" says my sister, my words cutting her to the bone.

"My home's no longer with you. I've got a new one, now. Does it suck? Well, maybe for you, but damn straight not for me." I walk in small circles and shrug as the words fly from my mouth and burrow into Yin's skin. "But hey, look on the bright side. You're free to be the obnoxious know-it-all you always wanted to be. Because we all know that that's what you really are. Am I right, or am I right?"

"Stop…" Yin utters barely, folding her arms defensively, obviously hurt.

"What? Isn't it true? _Aren't_ you an obnoxious know-it-all? I thought you are. I thought you _love_ putting yourself on a pedestal. Don't you?"

"That's not true!" She draws Snow Flower from its sheath out of reflex, her voice breaking.

"Okay, that's enough!" shouts Roger Jr., taking a step forward. His knuckles cracking, itching for some action. As he interjects into our conversation, the rest of the world is restored to its original state. "Dude, I don't know who you think you are, but you are being a total douchebag. Well, even more than you already are…"

"You need to come to your senses, Yang. We're here to help you," says Lina, putting one paw over her chest. Over her beating heart. "But we won't be able to do that unless you start helping yourself."

Like hell, they are… Like hell any of these so-called friends actually give a damn about me. Like hell things will be better if I just drop everything I've gained so far and comply with them. Who do they think they are, deciding what's best for me? What I should do?

I pull out my sword from my holster and point it at the five of them. In turn, the Crystals in my pockets glow brighter than they have. Currents of heat and electricity surge around me in a blanket of red and blue.

"Those are fighting words, Roger," I say in response to the skelewog's challenge. "So y'know what? I'm going to break each and every single one of you." The envelope that surrounds me grows thicker, reaching beyond my body. Sending off tiny sparks and embers haphazardly.

"Is it me, or did it just go up to fifty degrees?" says Coop, putting up his stance. Trying to keep his fright from getting the better of him. Sweltering like a dampened towel.

"Is this what you were warning us about, Yin?" Dave joins in, trembling in his branches and small stumps.

Saying nothing, my sister shuffles a foot behind her and gets into position. Snow Flower glitters in her hands, and both her grip on the hilt and her complexion harden.

"Charge!" she yells, racing down the pavement alongside my former group of friends. Hell-bent on taking me down.

Yuck makes his move too and dashes at me at equal speed, a pair of sickle-shaped protrusions forming on both sides. His bloodlust is profound, plastered all over his fanged glower. Though his motivation and Yin's are nothing alike, they are equally powerful.

As if it will make a difference.

My own surges of energy reach a zenith, the streams of electricity more wild, and the shroud of flame more violent. Some residual sparks and embers find their way on the ground. It doesn't stop my enemies from advancing.

Once they're within the range I'm hoping for, I throw my head up and hands out, unleashing it all in an elemental shockwave. The earth shakes before the display of power, and everyone is flung a hundred-odd feet away from me, their landing unsightly.

Everywhere I look is a picture of decimation. Buildings, roads, vehicles, trees and whatnot ravaged. Overturned. Where a fire hydrant used to be, a geyser of water takes its place. Every building in this block must have had their windows shattered. I'm willing to bet that the effect of my spell extends farther than where I stand.

I hold my poise for a moment before nearly losing my footing. My breathing temporarily robs me of the ability to speak. The yellow and cardinal lights continue to glow on my person.

So this is the strength of the Crystals. Those Woo Foo archives weren't lying. Only one amplified magic spell has caused me to break a sweat, making strands of my fur cling together. If these stones are known to bring Woo Foo Masters to their limits, then they've definitely done a number on me, someone whose preference is the Might discipline. My insides feel like a hole has been torn open in them.

But I've seen worse.

I've endured worse.

It's going to take more than that to put me out of my misery.

Back to this block of the city, Yin, Roger, Lina and Dave are still sprawled on the asphalt, drained from the blast themselves. Yuck, on the other hand, is nowhere to be seen. I don't care enough to wonder where he's run off to. They groan away the pain, traces of fire and electricity circling their bodies. My sister forces herself back up, even using Snow Flower's sheath as a cane to assist her.

Resilient, driven and just plain stubborn. That is me and my sister, in a nutshell. I guess it wouldn't be her if she were to just lay there.

But, man. If her posture and the desperation in her eyes aren't a sign of masochism, then I don't know what is.

"Wow, really?" I say, unbelieving. Brushing off my own pain. "After what you just took?"

"We can go about this however way you want, bro," Yin rasps, grunting in small bursts as she flattens the heels of her feet on the floor. "But one way or another, we _will_ take you back."

Soon, the rest of her crew is up on their feet as well, as determined as she is, wounds and all.

Sis and I draw our swords, pointing them at the other. She makes the first move and goes for another lunge with Snow Flower outstretched. We trade blow after blow, shifting between offense and defense. Might and Magic. Going in for an attack and parrying appropriately. Finding an opening that's never going to present itself.

When the distance between us is sufficiently wide, she forms a volley of ice shards that then fly to where I am. The cold projectiles shatter from a single fierce swing of my sword.

It gives her an opening to continue her attack. Her sword in tow, she brings it down on me and begins slashing. I regain my momentum and defend right on time, going on the offensive myself.

Our blades then meet, the two of us pushing against the other with every ounce of energy.

"Someone's picked up a thing or two lately," I comment snidely, smirking at her efforts to best me. Her futile attempt to actually win. "Fat load of good that'll do you."

We break off from our struggle, finding ourselves several feet apart. Yin tries her best to keep her cool, putting her paw over her chest. The tip of her sword touching the ground behind her, doing the crystal-like finish of the weapon a huge injustice.

Picking up on this, she fixes her posture and returns Snow Flower to its holster.

"Take a look around you, Yang," she says to me. "I know for a fact that you don't want this. All this bloodshed, all this chaos, this isn't you. I don't want this, either. None of us do. I don't want to have to raise a sword and point it at you." _And yet here you are, doing exactly that._ "Look, I haven't been 'sister of the year' material lately, but I don't mean all of that horrible stuff I say or do to you. If you're really pissed off at me, if that's really what all this is about, then let's sit down and talk about it. Anything but this."

As Yin blabs on, Lina, Dave, Roger and Coop line up next to her, looking worse for wear. In spite of their battered state, they stand their ground with unfaltering resolve.

"Just listen to her, man," says the skelewog, fists clenched and ready for a fight if need be.

Lina then takes a step forward, the giant boomerang slung across her shoulder. "Yang, please. It's not too late. This is for your own good."

"We're not making choices for you, bro," says Yin, also moving forward. Trying to be as inviting as she can be. But that's automatically out the window given that they're all armed to the teeth. "We're helping you pick the right one. We're telling you how boneheaded the one you made is. As your sister, I'm telling that to you."

She didn't just…

 _But she did_ , a voice in my mind urges.

As I expected. This isn't for my sake, but for theirs. Who are they trying to fool with their pretenses? Not me, that's for sure. The nerve of them to pull the wool over my eyes. The nerve of them to hold me back. How dare they?

How. Dare. THEY?!

My blood boiling in anger, I twirl my sword by its hilt and point its tip at them. I look them dead in the eye, channeling that anger that bubbles in me for them to see. Their foundation wobbles slightly.

"And as _your_ brother and _your_ 'friend', I'm telling all of you that you're so full of it," I say to them, my low voice putting me in command of the situation. "So I'll tell you what. Take your 'brother and sister' bullshit and shove it up right where the sun don't shine. As far as I'm concerned, I've made my decision. Since you're all being a pain in my neck today, why don't I return the favor a thousand times over?"

In one quick move, I put my paw in my pocket, pull it back out and punch the ground beneath my feet. A torrent of blue lightning trails along the road and sets off an explosion underneath my foes. They manage to avoid getting caught in the blast by jumping back far enough, but the dust and smoke give me ample time to attack.

Gripping the hilt of my sword tightly, I lunge at them and prepare to bring the weapon across them in a horizontal swipe. Amidst the thick bank of dirt, I hit something. The silhouette before me is that of a person, but whatever my blade has struck doesn't feel like flesh or bone.

The dust dissipates, revealing the shadow to be Yuck, or the amorphous being known as Yuck. And the object that my sword has collided with is a sword-like appendage that is seemingly attached to his body. He allowed a part of himself to take this shape. Assuming control over it, he lifts it up and points the tip at my head.

He bears his teeth at me in a grin that is befitting of him. He's out for blood. My blood. He has the power to stake his claim on me. On my life.

"Neat trick, no?" says Yuck boldly, swatting away my sword. "There's plenty more where that came from."

Another part of his body shapes into a scythe. He leaps at me with his two 'arms', hacking away in a frenzy. Aiming to land even the smallest blow to instill a fear in me. Our battle, carrying us from one corner of the city to another.

But I can more than keep up with his savagery. Fear is one of those emotions that every living creature is subject to. There are no exceptions. I'd be lying if I said I'm not the least bit wary about Yuck's newfound capabilities. But my near-endless Woo Foo training has enabled me to cast these feelings aside. And the more rigorous regime that Lupin has put me through has only made me better at it.

If I wanted to, I'd jump headfirst into the eye of a tornado and brave the storm, so to speak.

With Yuck, it's only a matter of time. One of us will be walking away from this battle in one piece. It won't be him. As soon as I find that opening, it's game, set and match.

My adversary does not let up for even one second. The weapons he uses change throughout the course of the fight. When the distance between us is wide, he resorts to crossbows, arrows and even guns while trying to bridge the gap. That's when he really cuts loose. Swords, lances, scythes, if anything is of remote use to him, he will use it. His seamless adaptation to any given situation make him a bigger deal than he leads on.

Still and all, the two of us are nip and tuck. Every move he makes is met with a slash of my sword, a spell enhanced by the Crystals in my person or a swift evasive jump. The battle never tips to either of our favors.

Although it just might. It took time, but this fight might have just been decided.

Yuck stumbles to the ground, rasping for air as his weapons retract into him. I had a hunch that his gooey state could only be the cause of one thing.

There's an urban legend circulating around about a place where the vilest of creatures are said to reside. A place located in the off-skirts of my town, more specifically the wasteland where the lair of the Night Master once stood. The Pit is what it's called. Some people naturally draw conclusions that he and this place have something to do with each other, while other people are of the belief that it's related to Woo Foo. There is no concrete explanation as to what the Pit really is…

…except that Lupin has been in there once. For a hundred years, it was his prison. And the one who banished him there, his former mentor, Yo. As if I don't already have enough reasons to hate the old fart.

And even still, Lupin has no idea of the Pit's true nature. The only thing he knows of it is that it changes a person forever. He is living proof of it.

And apparently, so is Yuck. Though Lupin has been in the Pit for so long, for the most part he is still of a sound heart, mind and body, if not for his bitterness. I can't say the same for this pitiful little wretch in front of me.

Now he's going to pay dearly for his mistake, if he hasn't already. I find myself swarmed by vicious thoughts, by all sorts of ideas of drawing out his suffering further. I don't even attempt to hide the grin on my face.

Twirling my sword by the hilt, I relax into a more casual posture and chuckle.

"Talk about a fascinating turn of events," I say with sadistic merriment. "I had a feeling you were desperate to settle the score with me, but to actually go that far? You've sunken so low."

Yuck flashes his fangs in anger, triggered by the fact that I've just told him the cold hard truth. Yelling a throat-piercing yell, he dashes at me with a pair of claymores and brings them at me in a haphazard sequence. He's more unfocused compared to a while ago, his attacks missing their mark badly.

Why should I waste my good arm on him? I can just put away my sword, which is what I end up doing. Resorting to just evading him, knowing full well that he is never going to hit me.

One heavy slash of his leaves him caught in the ground, and he struggles to pry his arm out. I perch my paw on the flat of his and lift his head by his chin.

"What do you think, Yuck? How does it feel, knowing that you're slowly disintegrating?" I ask him with total condescension. "That at any time, you could be reduced to nothing? Well, less than nothing, since you're literally nothing already."

He doesn't take kindly to my mockery and, eventually freeing himself, lashes out at me. Like a stray feather in a gentle breeze, I weave away from his slice and chuckle some more. I palm my face and shake my head, deriving comedy in his pettiness. In the futility of his struggle.

Yet again, he continues his offense, his efforts draining him by the second. He refuses to properly angle his attacks so that they even come close to hitting me.

I draw my sword and block the next slash, relishing in his misery. I lean closer to his face, his troubled breathing washing over mine.

"Actually, what I should have asked is: is it really worth it? Is it?" I continue taunting him, gripping the hilt with both paws. "I'm curious to know. I am, honest. Perhaps you can enlighten me."

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" screams Yuck, pushing with enough force to repel me. He creates a pair of arms and clutches his chest. A thick veil of perspiration surfaces on his brow. I'm surprised that he's still able to do things like breathe, sweat and feel anything even with this body. I wonder how much pain he can take.

Guess I'm about to find out. I enter my fighting stance and say, "I've wasted enough time. I'll make this quick."

I pull out the Crystals of Fire and Lightning from my pockets and close my fists over them. Their power swells within them and then surges into my body. Currents of flame and electricity dance around me in a cloak of red and blue. I continue to draw power from these two sacred stones, and they won't be running out of fuel any time soon.

Hunching forward to prepare myself, I observe my pathetic adversary and size him up. I'm the hunter with his eyes on his prey. My heart races. As do I.

Like a flash of thunder, I bolt towards him. My paws are around his neck. I lift him above the ground as he gags and spews tiny pellets of blood, and drops of slime fall to my feet. The bravado he once had is gone, terror taking its place.

"Woo Foo Secret Technique," I whisper. My voice soars to the sky afterwards. "Hands of Ruin!"

Fire and lightning erupt beneath me in a diagonal stream, engulfing the helpless Yuck whole. The flow continues until it sets off an explosion that propels him away from me.

I recoil just a little from the explosion without actually losing ground. I take a moment to regain my composure. Artifacts such as these Crystals and this sword don't feel as though they're part of this world at all. When I use them, it's like I'm being taken past the skies above. To some far off place fit only for a deity. They're not to be taken for granted, that's for sure.

I wonder how I'm still in one piece after cutting loose the way I just did. Woo Foo legend told of unworthy people meeting an untimely demise when they attempt to use a Talisman or Crystal for themselves. Though I'm probably in no position to complain; this is the power I've sought for. If anything, I'm among the one percent of Woo Foo Knights who've had a taste of such immense power and can live to tell of such a tale.

And that's just it; this is but a sample of the Crystals' and Talismans' strengths. There are twelve of each, but for the time being, these two are more than enough.

Now that that's out of the way, that still leaves Yuck. Should I put an end to him? Or leave him there to die of his own choosing? The answer isn't there like I hoped it would be. I'm too tired to decide. These Crystals have knocked more wind out of me than I thought, my head damp in a haze.

My legs give way, bringing me to my knees. From the distance, I can hear them. My sister and company. They've been doing their best to keep up with us. They behold the aftermath of the most recent battle.

"Oh my God," murmurs Lina, wandering her eyes everywhere, fraught by the carnage. The onslaught.

"This can't be happening," Dave trembles.

"At least no one got hurt," Coop adds calmly. It changes when they set their sights on Yuck. "Guess I spoke too soon."

"Yuck!" Yin cries out with the pretense that she cares about him, running to his aid. Crouching and feeling his face with the heel of her paw. "Hey, hang in there."

Looking a little worse for wear, the best that Yuck can respond with is coughing five times, spitting out more drops of blood on the fourth and fifth.

"Damn! This isn't good. He's barely holding on, but there's no telling what could happen."

"What in the hell are you?" states Roger, stunned and horrified.

My strength comes back to me, and I get up on my feet. "I thought you knew. Or maybe you never did?"

"How… How could you do this?" cracks Lina, on the verge of tears. Taken by disbelief.

"No. No, no, no. You're not the Yang we know. The Yang we know would never act like this," Dave rationalizes, and it's about time that one of these idiots grows a brain between their shoulders.

"Took you long enough," I say without even half a damn. "What's it to ya, park bench?"

Her back towards me, Yin rises slowly and with a trembling fist. She turns to me, showing watery eyes and a fanged glower – a primal expression that wants only to rend asunder.

"You monster!" she growls, drawing her sword in a frigid mist. She dashes at me with her weapon primed and goes for the attack. The two of us clash as she tells her friends, "You guys go ahead to the dojo. Take Yuck with you!"

"But what about you?" Lina objects as the others hurry to Yuck's aid.

"Leave this one to me! Just go! That's an order!"

Roger carries the unconscious Yuck in his arms, but falters from the drops of slime staining him and falling off his person. They eventually hightail it out of here, leaving me and my sister to deal with each other.

I fend her off, and she leaps up high and dives at me with her sword pointed outwards. She misses me, and we go right back at it, trading slashes, punches, kicks and spells. She pulls out a few new tricks, such as a volley of ice shards, a water-based whip and a crystalline skateboard deck that she rides on at a breakneck speed.

Yin's gotten so much better since our last encounter, I'll give her that. She's coming at me with harsher, more resolute intentions, too. To be honest, it took me by surprise, how much she's improved. But it won't be enough to put me down. I have an answer for everything she can dish out.

She refuses to lose, but so do I. From that alone, it's almost like this skirmish will be continuing for quite some time.

During a short but welcome respite, I affect as calm a pose and air as I can, fascinated by her sharpened skills. She's breathing in all the air she can, but I merely smirk at her.

"Pretty good, sis," I say, clapping in a demeaning way. "You had me going there for a second. Keep it up, and you might actually land your first hit."

My sister doesn't take any of my patronizing, brushing it off with a swipe of her arm. "I hope you're proud of yourself, Yang."

Just when I'm about to make the next move, he leaps into the fray. Literally. His entrance could not be any more dramatic or impeccably timed. He lands right between us, unmoving for the longest time before standing up. Tail wagging left and right and duster blown by a breeze – a cool and composed air, compared to mine.

"Stand down, dear student," says Lupin, holding me back with his one paw. Humbling me in the process.

"You!" lashes Yin, pointing a finger at me. And I feel as every bit willing to snap it off of her after showing my master such undue disrespect.

"Is that all you have to say to me? 'You'? That old geezer probably never taught you any manners. Not surprising, seeing as he doesn't know any."

"Spare me your crap. Just because you're the only Woo Foo Grandmaster doesn't mean I'm going to back off. Either you give Yang back to me, or I'll be wiping your blood off this sword by the time I'm done with you."

Lupin could not help but chuckle at my sister's temerity. He folds his arms casually and says, "Recklessness _does_ run in your family. That's very adorable of you, but it's also foolish. Don't even try coming at me, you'll only regret it. Besides, my issue is with that godforsaken panda, not you. For now, I'm calling this little brouhaha off. We're calling it a day for now, kiddo."

Out of reflex, Yin launches a spike of ice at Lupin. It barely hits him, slicing off a small patch of his fur from his face. She has several more locked and loaded. "You're not going anywhere. I'm here for my brother, and either I'm leaving with him or I drop dead trying."

Annoyed, Lupin groans and rolls his eyes. He keeps his cool as best as he can, but the most patient man in the world can crack at some point. "Don't be in such a hurry for that. You still have an entire life waiting for you and all. For the time being, you might want to consider getting ready."

"For what?"

"Something big. Something that no one can escape from. Something that will change our lives forever. And I get the feeling that all of us will be seeing each other very soon. And by then, we can resolve this little mess that we have in our hands."

That's when I remember that Lupin really did mean for this to be another exercise. He must have seen the evacuation of this town coming. He didn't really want me to finish anyone off. Not today, anyway. This was just him gauging a number of things. The progress of my training, the strength of the Crystals, whether I could use them to full capacity, and such.

This is basically it. An evaluation. Nothing more, nothing less.

Lupin walks past Yin and looks over his shoulder. "Yang, we're outta here."

"Yes, sir," I answer diligently, joining him.

He gazes at my sister and tells her, "Your dear Master Yo might have already caught on with what's going on. When that time comes, I'll be expecting all four of us to be present and accounted for. Until then, take care of yourself, Yin."

And he and I then make our exit, leaping high into the sunlit distance, from roof to roof. Leaving a bewildered Yin behind us. Bewildered just as I am.

I reflect on Lupin's little diatribe a while ago. About this huge, life-changing event that's to come soon. I have no regrets about the decisions I've made so far. I came into this knowing of the hardships and suffering I would have to endure, and they are far from over. But this situation might probably be two-fold. A means to an end.

For me, this is about becoming a stronger, better Woo Foo Knight. For Lupin, this could also be fulfilling his own agenda of letting the world know of the greatness of this art. Yet there could be more to him that just spreading the word about Woo Foo.

Whatever he has in store may be, I don't want him to see me as just a means to an end. Without him, I wouldn't know how to navigate this winding and turning road. I would have been even more lost than I already was. My sister would have surpassed me, and all my faults would be put out there for everyone to point out and deride me for.

I know for sure that I have a similar degree of significance to him. But…

 _Lupin… Once in a while, I wish I could get inside your head. See the world the way you do. Being told about your life, what you've been through, your joy, your sorrow, sometimes just isn't enough. I know this is as important to you as it is for me, but I want to know._

 _What will happen after everything is said and done?_


End file.
